In The End
by Mr Imagination
Summary: After a historic concert at the place their epic journey began, without warning, the five friends, threw in the towel. They called it quits. As they embark on their own personal journeys of discovery, will destiny lead them in a circle - and back to each other?
1. Intro

THE DISCLAIMER!

This is a story written using DISNEY's modification, of MR. HUGHES' original characters. Nothing other than the plot is mine. I just 'borrowed' the characters for the purpose of entertaining some folks... *GRIN* Also, you will come across two 'real' songs, both of which were used only in support of telling the story. In both instances, I named the artist who owns/performed the songs originally. Hopefully, I'm not stepping on anyones toes by doing so...

* * *

It has been suggested I need to point out that the stories I've posted/am posting are sequential. While each one may be a pretty good story by itself, they'll make much more sense if you read them in order.

1. Begin Again  
2. Journeys End  
3. In the End  
4. All About The Music  
5. Where We Want To Be

* * *

**Lemonade Mouth**

_**In The End**_

"We are, and always will be – no matter  
what paths we travel, or what complications  
life throws at us – _**Lemonade Mouth**_…"

_~Mohini Banjaree_

* * *

_They created three monumental CDs…_

_They survived three consecutive sold-out  
__world tours…_

_They had one of the biggest fan bases in  
pop music history…_

_Then, after a historic concert at the place  
their epic journey __began, without warning,  
they threw in the towel._

_The five friends, called it quits._

_They embarked on their own personal  
journeys of discovery, _ _each looking for  
something._

_Soon, however, they will discover it is  
Destiny alone that __directs their course._

* * *

_Comments? _:-)


	2. Prologue

_**prologue**_

_**9:00 AM – Monday – Southport, England**_

"Miss Banjaree," my new assistant says, sticking her head in my door, "A courier just dropped this off for you. I told him you were here, but he insisted I could sign for it."

"Shannon… I thought we talked about the whole 'Miss' thing…" I say, frowning and waving her into the office. "We're within five months of each other age wise – you really should be calling me Mo, like everyone else does. We're in a concert hall… not a courtroom."

When she makes it to my desk, she's as red as a fire engine, and quickly hands me what appears to be a CD mailer. As I am reading the addresses on the front, Martha appears at the door.

"Good morning MISS BANJAREE!"

Again, poor Shannon blushes.

"Now… see what you've started?"

"What's that?" Martha asks, "I saw the truck driving off."

"No idea," I reply, "but it came from Santa Pola, Spain – where I know no one."

"I'll be at the front desk," Shannon says, and quickly disappears out the door.

"Don't worry, Mo… she'll loosen up. Just give her some time. After all, it isn't everyday someone gets hired by the bass player for one of music's biggest pop bands…"

I laugh, pull the tab to open the envelope, and find only an unlabeled CD inside…

_**five hours later**_

_**9:00 AM – Monday – Lake Tahoe, California**_

Because I'm not expecting anyone, when I hear the chime on the lobby door, I get up from my desk and head out front. I arrive in our small lobby at the same time my husband does, to find an overnight courier standing there with a clipboard.

"Ms Stella Yamada?"

"Not any more… but I was once," I reply, making Leonard laugh.

When the guy looks confused, I explain.

"I got married, that's all. Whacha got anyhow?"

He holds up a white cardboard CD mailer.

"Just this… but I need a signature."

"No problem. You want it as addressed?

"Well…"

I laugh, take his electronic signature pad, and scribble Stella Yamada, for the first time in years. He smiles, hands me the cardboard mailer, and disappears out the door.

"Santa Pola, Spain?" I mumble, pulling the tab, and tearing it open.

"You know someone in Spain?" Leonard asks, watching intently.

"Nope… not that I know of…" I reply, as I pull a single, unlabeled CD, out of the mailer.

"Well… fortunately for you, I just happen to have a CD player handy," he says, laughing and holding open the door to the studio…

_**thirty minutes later**_

_**9:30 AM – Monday – Albuquerque, New Mexico**_

When we hear "Mr. Gifford," over the classroom intercom, all my students go quiet.

"Yes, Theresa?" I reply.

"I just signed for an overnight package from a courier service, addressed to you here at the school. I'm sending it down with a student."

"Thanks, Theresa!"

I turn back to face my class.

"Okay… so… clefs… someone tell me which ones we commonly use."

"Bass clef!" one student calls out.

"Treble clef," comes from another.

"And time signatures?" I ask.

"4/4 is most common," a girl in the front row replies.

"Very good – you guys were paying attention."

A student appears at the door, knocks, and I tell her to come in. She crosses the room, hands me a white CD mailer, I thank her and she goes back to the office.

As I stand reading the return address, I realize everyone is sitting quietly, watching me.

"Do you guys know anyone in Santa Pola, Spain?"

Most of them laugh, and a few mumble, 'huh'?

"Yeah… me neither."

I pull the small tab to open the mailer and find a blank CD inside.

"So… what say we find out what's on it guys?" I say, walking over and popping it into a portable player I keep in the classroom.

With 16 pairs of eyes watching, I push play…

_**thirty minutes later**_

_**10:00 AM – Monday – Los Angeles, California**_

I'm carefully mixing a track for a new artist, when the door to the booth opens, and one of the many secretaries in the building sticks her head in.

"Sorry to interrupt, Charlie…" she whispers.

"No need to whisper, Carrie, the mics are off. What's up?"

"This just came for you. Richard said I should bring it down."

She holds out a cardboard CD mailer, which I take from her.

"I didn't know you had friends in Spain," she says, smiling.

"I don't… that I know of," I reply, spinning it around so I can read the origin address.

"Well… see ya later. Gotta get back to work."

She lets the door go, crosses the studio and disappears into the hall. Now curious, I pull the tab on the mailer, tear it open, and find a blank CD with no explanation inside.

With a shrug, I slip it into the nearest CD drive, and click 'play'…


	3. Chapter 1

_**one **_

I'm lost in the lyrics, handwritten on the page in my hands, when my dad walks up.

"Hey guy – why so serious?"

"Lyrics…" I reply, holding up the page.

"Oh…" He pauses for a moment, and then sits down next to me, on the steps. "You okay?"

"I guess…"

When I sit silently staring at the page in my hand, my dad continues.

"I stopped by to talk to you about the modifications to your house – I have a crew that can handle the job in four days. You interested?"

"Well…"

"Still not sure you want to do it?"

I frown, confirming what he's suspected for months – my mind is still stuck on Olivia… and the possibility she'll come back.

"Four years, Wendell – it's been almost four years since the two of you broke up. I know what I said the day I 'lectured' the four of you, right after she left, but this has gone past all that. When are you going to quit screwing around, and do what needs to be done?"

"We've been over this, Dad… repeatedly. I can't _make_ her do anything. No one except Olivia can make Olivia do anything."

"Good point, son. But you damn sure can make _Wendell_ do something…"

"I don't even know where she is…" I start to say, and then jump when my dad snatches the envelope I'm holding, out of my hand.

"You could start here," he quickly replies, pointing at the postmark on the envelope…

_I-10123 Torino (TO)  
Italy_

I take the envelope back, and sit staring at it.

"How much longer are you going to torture yourself, Wen?"

"We decided, Dad… we decided that what we had wasn't meant to be permanent."

"Yeah… right. Two twenty-one year olds, trying to find their way, in a high-pressure world, of bright lights and fame," he says, looking at me, and shaking his head.

"May I?" he asks, reaching for the single sheet of paper I'm holding, which I let go of.

I watch quietly, as he reads the five stanzas of lyrics she's written, and as he hands it back to me, he says, "If you don't go find her, you can bet I'm going to. 'Daughter-in-law or _daughter_' as I recall, which means…"

He's interrupted by my current 'girlfriend' as she comes out the door behind us.

"Hey, Wen – I'm off to work."

"Okay," I reply, standing up and kissing her. "Do you want to meet us for dinner, or should I come and get you?"

"I can get there."

The moment she glances at what's in my hand, a brief look of depression sweeps over her face, telling me she knows what it is. After a second, she smiles, and looks at my dad.

"It's really nice of you to do the 'birthday dinner' thing for me, Mr. Gifford."

"It's my pleasure, Courtney. Sydney also has a gift for you – which she and Georgie came up with. Hopefully, whatever it is, it doesn't embarrass you."

"I'm sure it will be perfect."

She gives me another quick kiss, and disappears down the driveway, to her car, which is parked on the street.

"She knows," I mumble, sitting back down next to my dad.

"Of course she does. She's just waiting for you to admit it. You know she doesn't deserve this…"

Sure, he's right, but it isn't something I want to talk about.

"I have to get to school, Dad. Let's hold off on the project for now, okay?"

"Sure kid. I'll see you at dinner tonight."

"Okay… see you then," I reply, as I head for my truck.

Just as I have for the last few months, all the way to the high school, I think about just one thing…

More accurately, _about just one person…_


	4. Chapter 2

_**two**_

It's Thursday – _Music Day_.

This is my fifth trip to _'Musica Riciclata'_ – or _Recycled Music_ – a small place less than a mile from where I now live. They sell new and used CDs, and while browsing, I've even stumbled across some very old vinyl, and – believe it or not – a couple of 8-track tapes!

Although I haven't been a musician or performer for quite some time, I still have this weird need to keep up with it. So, on every Thursday for the last two years, no matter where I've been, I find a music store – and I browse.

Destiny seems, for whatever reasons, unwilling to allow me to let go of my past.

Bianca and her brother Marco own 'Musica Riciclata'. She's the only person in town who knows who I actually am. I was kind of shocked when, within thirty seconds of my arrival the first time I was here, she recognized me. Her brother thought she was nuts – until I showed him my passport…

Truth is, over time, I've actually gotten comfortable being 'anonymous'…

"Buongiorno, Olivia!" the girl behind the counter calls out.

"E a voi, Bianca," I reply.

After a brief silence, I turn to look at her, and find her face awash in confusion.

"What's with the face?"

"A very strange thing has happened this morning… "

"Was it stranger than me just turning up in your shop one day, and you recognizing me immediately?" I ask with a smile.

"Perhaps it is. I will leave it to you to decide…" she replies, reaching down and pulling something from under the counter. "A courier left this perhaps an hour ago…"

She hands me a small, square cardboard envelope that I recognize as a CD mailer. The moment I see that it's _addressed to me_, I understand her confusion.

"How is this possible?" I ask.

"As you told me when we first met, because no one knows you are here, I too was quite confused. My concern that it may be important, forced me to sign for it, rather than send it back."

I glance at the address of origin, and see that it was sent from Ibiza, Spain.

"Well… I assure you I don't know anyone in Ibiza, _and_ not even my closest friends know I am here."

"Well then," Bianca says, walking over, locking the door, and turning off the small neon OPEN sign, "I would suggest you open it and we investigate…"


	5. Chapter 3

_**three**_

I'm standing next to the door when Marco and Bianca arrive to open the store the following morning.

"Olivia, it is quite early. Is everything okay?" Bianca asks.

"I need a favor guys… a big favor."

"But of course, Olivia, anything!" Marco says, as he unlocks the door.

"The CD you gave me yesterday…"

"Do you now wish to know who recorded the song?" Bianca asks, interrupting me.

"Not yet. But last night, I discovered a hidden mp3 file on the disk – a recorded message – and now, I know _why_ I got it," I reply, following them into the store, "even if I don't know why it came to your shop."

"Really? May I ask what the message says?" Bianca asks, locking the door behind us. Marco goes about turning things on, and getting the store ready for business.

I pull the CD out of my notebook, and stare at it for a moment... thinking.

"I'll let you hear the message, in return for the favor… well two actually…"

"It sounds very… very…" Marco says from across the room, looking at his sister, "what is the word in English?"

"Minaccioso?" Bianca says, looking a bit spooked.

"Si...si..."

I raise my eyebrows, and Bianca understands my visual request for a translation.

"Ominous..."

"What do you need?" Marco asks, stopping next to us.

"I need to make four copies of the song on the CD, and I need a contact – _in Spain_ – who can ship them overnight for me…"

Finally Bianca relaxes, and laughs. Marco is quick to follow.

"Come," Marco says, turning toward his office. "Rico has a small store in Santa Pola – a town near Alicante. We trade with him regularly, and he thinks Bianca is 'cute', and will do anything for her…"

He makes Bianca blush, and me laugh.

"I will have him make the copies, and send them where ever you want them to go."

Still laughing, I follow the two of them into their office…


	6. Chapter 4

_**four**_

Having completed my journey in search of myself, I have decided that I am in fact, a conglomeration. While my roots, and heritage, are Hindu, I am very much westernized. Because I opened myself up to my heritage, my parents have fully accepted the path I have chosen to travel – one that includes all of my acculturations.

With the general exception of orchestra performances, and some family gatherings, Mohini Banjaree can be found in jeans, sneakers, and a ponytail. I'm very big on comfortable.

While I do still play violin regularly, I have also moved on to managing the orchestra's operation. When Leonard and Stella got married, he moved on – to Lake Tahoe. So, in order to support myself (yeah, the band made some money, and no I haven't squandered all of mine), I went back to school and got a minor degree in business administration – so my resume at least looks legitimate. For me, working is more about being useful, than getting rich.

While I have dated, I am still single. I'm okay with that. I think that maybe I am waiting for the same magic that occurred the day Stella and Lenny met…

I'm only twenty-five… I have time.

Today, we are discussing our next performance – a fundraiser for a local private school. As I scan the suggested playlist, something catches my eye.

"Say… isn't this," I ask, tapping on the page in my hand, "a song from the Batman movie?"

Martha laughs, and says, "It was part of the soundtrack, yes, but it wasn't written for the movie."

As I stand here, reading the music, out of nowhere, a thought pops into my head. I turn to the nearest computer, do a quick search, and once I find what I'm after, smile, and turn to the others.

"What are we doing about the lyrics?"

"We intended to perform it instrumentally. Why?"

"Guys, I have the most amazing and crazy idea…"

_Fate and destiny, once again…_


	7. Chapter 5

_**five**_

"Wendell, it's me…"

"Hey Mo! Long time, no talk. What's up in your world?"

"I need to ask you something…"

"Shoot."

"Where's Olivia?"

"Not sure. I received some new lyrics from her a few days ago, and the envelope was post marked Torino, Italy. And, as usual, it has no return address."

"I want to get a hold of her – how can I do it?"

"Short of going and searching the entire city of Torino, I have no idea. She still hasn't felt the need to communicate – short of the lyrics – with any of us. Sydney and I are still checking on her house, paying the power bill, and having the yard maintained. I've even gone as far as letting Georgia drive her damn Jeep – so I don't have to keep going over and starting it once a week. And, each time I get mail, it's either just before she leaves a place or right after she arrives. I've never gotten two from the same place."

"Damn…"

"What's going on, Mo?"

"I needed her for… something. Maybe, I was just hoping…"

"Being kinda cryptic, aren't ya?"

"I was going to ask her to sing with the orchestra… that's all. I came across something in one of our recital playlists, and it struck me that her voice would be perfect…"

"Well, my dad has decided it may be time to find her, but I'm not sure what his plan is. I keep thinking about what he said to us, right after she left…"

"Yeah, me too. But damn it, Wendell, she's had enough time. I want my friend back."

"You and me both, Mo… honest to God…"

"So… that issue aside, how's life in Albuquerque?"

"Hot. I'm working on the house, been writing again – Richard called about some stuff for a new artist they are picking up. Oh… and believe it or not, Disney wants me to write something for one of their shows."

"Oh how cool!"

"What about you then?"

"Same old stuff. Life in the slow lane – which I am completely fine with."

"Have you fallen in love yet?"

"Yeah… right. I'm holding out for my 'Stella-Lenny' moment."

"Yeah, I know that feeling girl…"

"Huh? I thought you and…"

"Long story."

"Oh…"

There is a strained silence for a few seconds, and then Mo tries to recover.

"I sent her a birthday card."

"She got it – and laughed. Dad is doing the dinner thing for her tonight."

"And?"

"And, she asked if I would mind if she went home to Boston for her actual birthday – so I got her a ticket."

"I feel like I should say something… but I can only come up with one thing, Wen – and I'm thinking it's not something you want to hear…"

"Oh, relax, Mo… I've been saying it myself – repeatedly – for the last couple of weeks."

Again, there is a weird, pressured silence. Then, in a bizarrely intriguing twist, we say the same thing, _at the exact same time_…

"_Fate and destiny…"_


	8. Chapter 6

_**six**_

Having finished my call with Mo, I take a seat on a small retaining wall, outside the rehearsal room. Although totally lost in thought, after a few moments, the musician in me wins out, and I turn my attention to the music inside. I immediately know my sophomores are trying to 'copy' something. What catches my attention is the tempo – although I'm fairly certain, it's just a standard 4/4 beat, something about it makes it sound a lot faster.

Now concentrating on the music, I stand up and go inside. Halfway across the room, Pete and Patty see me coming, and quickly stop what they're doing.

"Guys… what's up with that?"

"We know how you feel about audibly copying…" Patty replies, looking a bit guilty.

"Why not get the sheet music?"

"We have it," Pete says, holding up some pages, "but it's kind of confusing."

I take the pages when he holds them out to me, and start reading.

"_Prozzäk?"_ I mumble.

"Yeah – it's some band my dad really likes."

"Gonna play it for him?"

"That's what we were thinking," Patty replies, "when we play the next dance. But I just told Pete, I think it's beyond us."

"Nothing is beyond you, Patty – it just requires a little extra effort. From what I just heard, it _sounds_ fast guys, but I'm pretty sure it's just a 4/4 tempo. You have the whole song?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hit play, let's listen…"

I take a seat, and start reading the music, not really paying any attention to the lyrics. A couple of the shifts I find in the middle of the song make me immediately understand what their problem is, and give me what could be an entertaining solution as well.

_Stella and Charlie._

Deep down, they've always been 'speed demons' where music is concerned – although they controlled themselves, when we were playing, or creating, Lemonade Mouth music. More than once over the years, did I walk in and find them shredding some speed metal of some kind – just because they could. Either one of them could help the kids, with the concept of tempo shifts.

I spin around, and as the music starts, I do a quick search to find out who the musicians are. It turns out to be a sort of alternative pop group from Canada – which I've actually never heard of. After further reading, I discover the _musicians_ are _animated_ – which makes me laugh.

By the second stanza, there are about fifteen kids, who filtered in from the hall, all dancing around the room, laughing. The fact the song was recorded before most of them had even started school, lends credence to my belief that music is indeed, universal.

Then, I hear the hook… and am instantly awash with goose bumps.

I'm about to close the website, when, for reasons unknown, I click on one more link… and up pops a single image, of the two cartoon characters designed to depict the musicians. Below the picture is a caption…

…_images of Prozzäk's heroes, Simon and Milo – one love sick and the other oblivious to anything but the music. _

Yeah… the fact that, at one point in our lives, it would have described me and Olivia perfectly, pretty much weirds me out.

_Damn you, Olivia…_ I think to myself, grinning like a fool.


	9. Chapter 7

_**seven **_

Lost in thought, I sit cross-legged on the bank, and watch the river rush by, on its way to… somewhere. I do this a lot. For some reason, I see my life reflected in the actions of the river.

The message in the hidden file is perplexing to say the least. I stare at my iPod for a few seconds, and then push play. The intriguing, deep male voice begins immediately…

_Miss White… I have sent you the enclosed CD with a purpose. _

_The song was written many years ago… by myself, and a very close friend, for a record we produced together. It was a time in our lives when we were testing our musical abilities – experimenting… searching… just as you are now._

_While I am certain that with little effort, you could uncover my identity, I am in hopes you will not feel the need to do so. Not yet. True, at some point, my identity will be important, for now, it is not. What is important is the favor I will ask of you._

_Listen to the melody, search your heart, and find the perfect lyrics for the song. The subject I will leave entirely to you, for having heard many of your songs, I am convinced you will come up with something spectacular. Although I know there is great difference between your music and mine, I have always believed that all music is universal. I am in hopes you can find a way to give the melody meaning, without changing it to terribly much._

_I will contact you again soon, with a full explanation._

The song actually captured my imagination the first time I played it. As I listened, I found lyrics forming in my head – lyrics that don't seem to apply… but somehow, do.

Now, as I drift through the non-descript life I've chosen to live, I find myself trying to figure out how to do what the 'voice' tasked me with, without losing my anonymity.

You see… for the last two years, I've managed to be simply 'Olivia' – _not_ the lead singer of a famous pop band. I've actually grown quite comfortable with being nothing more than 'a face in a crowd'.

In time, Lemonade Mouth, like every other 'pop-music phenomenon', quietly faded. After a year, our songs were only heard occasionally on the radio, and at some point during the second year, you'd only hear us if someone called in on a 'request line'.

We were quickly replaced by a German pop band – appropriately name 'Nächste Seite' – or in English, 'Next Page'. They were a bunch of bored college kids who got together and recorded a single song in a dorm room – and ended up at the top of the European singles charts four weeks later. Once they recorded the song in English, they stormed the rest of the world's singles charts as well.

Staying true to their roots, they always record their songs in both German and English. Their first CD titled 'Turning', made it to number one – on almost every chart – in four weeks.

And everyone said _our_ rise was meteoric?

And, as is the way of the music world, it took less than six months for Next Page's nemesis to appear – yet another group of American high school kids…

_THIRTY-TWO MONTHS PRIOR  
__SOMEWHERE IN KANSAS_

They call themselves 'Ransom' – which is actually the name of the town in Kansas where they were discovered. I always found it interesting that, no matter how much pressure was put on them by the record company they eventually signed with, they staunchly refused to change their name to 'something a bit more catchy'.

I'm pretty sure that was Stella's doing…

Yep, that's right. Stella and Charlie found them, on one of their many jaunts around the country, visiting high schools. An old college friend of Ms. Reznick called and told her about them, and she in turn told Stella and Charlie. Two weeks later Discovery Studios gave a presentation for the music students at Western Plains High School. After school the same day, Charlie and Stella wandered into the small music room while the kids were playing – and the chemistry was amazing. It was so reminiscent of five kids in a detention room, that it gave them goose bumps.

Over the next few days, Stella and Charlie spoke one-on-one to each of the kids, then with them as a group one afternoon. Finally, after their own intense discussion, they sat the five kids down together, and told them that they'd decided to work with them. The kids, of course, pretty much freaked.

Although the kids were very good musicians, none of them was really a vocalist – something Stella and Charlie discussed at length. Fact was, they needed a singer…

Then… _destiny_ stepped in – just like it did with us.

As fate would have it, on the day they planned to leave, Stella found a vocalist, as she crossed the school parking lot, on the way to her rental car. The moment she heard the voice, she stopped dead in her tracks, causing the music teacher to almost knock her down, when she ran into her from behind. Stella turned toward the sound, and her eyes came to rest on a petite young girl, with a face full of freckles, sitting under a big tree, books open in front of her, _singing_ to whatever was playing on her iPod…

Needless to say, she and Charlie postponed their departure, and with the help of the music teacher, they immediately got the six kids together.

The results were so amazing, it even left Stella and Charlie a bit stunned. The chemistry was so immediate and so perfect, one had no choice but to believe the kids were always _destined_ to play together… kind of like we were.

Once school was out for the summer, Discovery Studios flew the kids – and a couple of parents – out to Tahoe. Stella took charge, and put the kids to work the moment they walked into the studio. Charlie even mentioned how amusing it was, watching Stella deal with… well… herself! Apparently, the band's bass player was the new Stella Yamada – a hardheaded, consummate, pain in the…

It took them – with Wendell's on-and-off help, and six separate trips to the studio – about six months to turn six kids, _first into a band_, and then into the next musical 'phenomenon'.

They came to me, a few weeks before I embarked on what has become a life adventure, with a request…

_THIRTY MONTHS PRIOR  
__INSIDE DISCOVERY STUDIOS_

"We need you talk to each of them Olivia, and then write their title song," Stella said.

"Catch is," came from Wen – who was grinning like a Cheshire cat – "it has to be a ballad."

"You want to launch a pop band, with a _ballad_?" I asked, more than a bit mystified.

"Insane, right?" Stella replied, with a laugh. "Trust me, the moment you meet them, you'll get it…"

It may have been a totally crazy idea, but the results would turn out to be far more amazing than any of us could have imagined.

Stella was right – once I met the kids, I understood what she and Wen were trying to do. I even went so far as to ask the kids how they felt about preforming a ballad, and the drummer laughed, pointed at the lead singer, and said, "You should hear her sing _'Destined to Be'_…" When the singer blushed, and the bass player giggled, I knew it would work.

After multiple conversations with the kids, I discovered there was a stressed 'relationship' going on between one of them, and someone back home.

How lucky could I get? The one thing I've always been _very_ good at writing about… emotional confusion.

Although the kid in question would only share limited information, a compromise was reached – I could write about it, if I didn't use names.

It took me three days of quiet contemplation, solitude, and a number of erasers, to write the lyrics. The song's theme is the inability we sometimes experience, when trying to escape someone's hold on our heart… even though we know it needs to be done.

Once I was satisfied with what I had, I immediately went and let the band member in question read it. There were a few tears, but I was eventually given a very passionate hug, and permission to use it. I asked about a title, and was told 'I need to think about it…'

One at a time, I let the other kids read it, and the thing I found totally intriguing, was that _every single one__ of them_ knew exactly what – _and who_ – it was about… Seems 'friendship' hadn't changed much since I was in high school.

When Stella finally read it, the tears came when she got to the chorus.

I spent the next two days with their lead singer – a fifteen year old named Misty. Although the rest of the band was getting antsy, Charlie sat them down, and explained that once the lyrics were firm, the music would simply 'come' to them. Stella had them putting together strings of chords, and rhythms, and writing them all down.

Although she had no formal training, it was immediately apparent Misty had a voice easily as good as mine. She totally captured the essence of the lyrics the first time she sang them. Because the story is about a broken and trapped heart, rather than falling in love, as I put the lyrics together, they turned out to be more octosyllabic, using consonance rather than rhyme. Once we decided on a bridge – which was Misty's doing – we cleaned up the chorus, and decided we were ready for music. She got teary-eyed at one point and asked why, knowing she didn't really have any experience, I'd given her so much freedom and input.

"Lyrics are just words…" I told her, taking her hands, and smiling, "…it's the emotion the _vocalist_ puts into them, that makes them a _song._ From this moment on,_ this_ is _your_ song…"

Truth is… she would eventually surprise even me.

Once we gave the band an idea for tempo – insisting we needed at least 100 bpm – Charlie and Stella went to work with them. I was stunned to find them hard at it, sixteen hours later, at 3:00 AM the next morning.

On the second day, Misty and I were sitting at the water's edge, discussing the difference in the volume and tone of the 'chest' and 'head' voices, when the lead guitarist walked up, handed me a folded piece of paper, then turned and went back into the studio. I opened it and found a single word written in the center…

'_hostage'_

I smiled, mumbled "_perfect_", and handed it to Misty. She too smiled, and said, "It is…"

After two more months of intense practice and rehearsal, Charlie and Stella decided it was time for the kids to record. I'm not sure who was more amped – the kids, or their parents.

The day they made their first attempt, it took them multiple tries – which caused the drummer and lead guitarist some undue stress. After their second try failed, Charlie knew what their problem was, and immediately addressed it…

"From this point forward, you practice and rehearse _in the studio_. All your instruments stay in here – period. Starting tomorrow, you will all turn up at 9:00 AM, 2:00 PM and 6:00 PM for FORMAL rehearsals. You'll play whatever songs are on the list the Stella will leave on the snare drum. They will be songs you know, and I expect a start to finish play-through of each one."

"The curtains in the booth will be closed," Stella added, a devious look in her eyes, "and the lights will be out. You won't know if one of us is in there… or not. You are just gonna make some music, and _have fun_ – and NOT worry about 'recording' – got it?"

For the next four days, the kids did as instructed, and even turned up a bunch of times, just to practice. On the fifth day, when they turned up for their 9:00 rehearsal, they found the control booth powered up, and Stella sitting inside, grinning. Without a word, she reached out, pushed a button, and the studio was instantly filled with _hostage_ – which Stella had at some point, recorded. By the time it played through, the bass player and lead singer were in tears.

"You're going to do that again… right now," they heard Stella say, as she took a seat at the control panel.

Now fully realizing they _could _do it, the six of them proceeded to lay down a perfect track – _on the first attempt_ – knowing Stella was recording it.

Stella spent the next day and a half trying to convince them to put _hostage_ online, for free downloads. Because all of them were quite hesitant to do it, Wen finally spoke up.

"You guys do remember Lemonade Mouth, right?"

"Well… of course," Misty replied.

"Well guys, she…" Wen added, pointing directly at Stella, who was sitting on the front edge of her desk, "…is the one who single-handedly started, and launched our band."

"Without Stella, and her insane ideas," Charlie volunteered, "you wouldn't be here now… doing what you are doing. None of this…" he waved his arms to indicate the studio, "…would exist."

"Guys…" Stella said, sliding off her desk, crossing the room to the kids and squatting down in front of them, using Misty's knee to balance herself, "If you will trust me on this, you will end up right where I think you want to. We…" she smiled, and pointed at Wen and Charlie with her free hand, "…had our turn. We've put all this effort into you guys, because we believe it's now _your_ turn."

The kids turned to look at one another, and after a few moments of contemplation, each nodded their understanding.

And of course, in the end, the kids _and_ their parents agreed to do it Stella's way. The totally amusing part came when, less than seventy-two hours after they put it up, the silly thing went viral. By the fourth day, it had been downloaded over 100,000 times, and was the topic of discussion in no less than 100 different online music forums – around the world. And… to top it all off, ten legitimate free music sites sent emails asking for permission to post it to their homepages, as the 'featured' song! In just more than a month, the song was downloaded well over a half a million times. I'm pretty sure _every_ teenager who ever suffered a broken heart, had it on their mp3 player…

Richard called Stella the very moment he heard about it, and proceeded to give her a monster butt-chewing, asking why she hadn't brought them directly to him. Stella laughed and told him they were on their way, with a rough demo of the first CD, and a bunch of parents in tow.

Six months after Richard got hold of them, their first CD _entered_ the charts at number 5, and in only a week, was firmly seated in the top spot. Two weeks later, Next Page released their second CD, and the battle was on. The two groups spent the following year, taking turns at the top.

The kids decided to use the ballad's title for the CD – with a twist. The keyboard player – who is the oldest of the bunch, and is quite adept at graphics – created the cover on his own, in between practices and rehearsals. He started with an image of the six of them, standing in a waist-high wheat field, and over their name, put the word 'PAID' as if it had been rubber stamped. Across the bottom, he put the word 'hostage' in lower case, in what is definitely a female's handwriting.

Stella and Charlie thought it was ingenious.

And… while Lemonade Mouth may have disbanded, the members are still very much, a continuous presence in the world of music.

Well… most of them are…


	10. Chapter 8

_**eight**_

"Delgado."

"Do you always answer your phone like that?"

"Of course I do. I'm an engineer you clown, not a 'suit'.

"Been banging on those drums lately?"

"Well… yeah. But Bailey spends more time on them than I do anymore. If she keeps it up, she'll probably turn into an awesome drummer."

"Like father, like daughter, dude."

"So…what's up?"

"I need your expertise. I have a couple of kids who are trying to cover a song, and it has some fairly complex tempo shifts, that are kicking their butts. I figured the world's best drummer could help them pull it off."

"Who are they trying to cover?"

"Group from about ten years ago, called Prozzäk. I'd never heard of them…"

"I have – alternative dance club stuff. Was pretty catchy as I recall."

"So, think you can get away for a couple days? I know Vicki is getting close again…"

"I'll have to ask her. Good thing is, her mom is right there in town, and she loves spending time with Bailey."

"Well, get back to me after you talk to your wife."

"I'll see what I can do. Might be nice to 'help' again. Haven't been in that environment since… well…"

"Yeah, I know Charlie. I'm beginning to miss it all too. Call me later – I gotta get back to class."

"Later dude."

I close the phone, open the door to the rehearsal room, and as fate would have it, hear the hook that moments earlier, had reached out and, for some unknown reason, grabbed my heart…

_w w w dot  
I won't believe it  
w w w dot  
Until I read it  
__**My heart is tied up in a knot  
**__You know it's true  
w w w dot __**nevergetoveryou**_

There… I admitted it, even if only to myself.

That woman and I were about to take this to its inevitable conclusion – after all, she's the one who's always stirring up the fate and destiny.

Then… in the middle of my 'moment', Courtney pops into my head, and although I expect pangs of guilt to begin jabbing me – they don't.

Thing is, I'm not in love with Courtney, and I know that. And, according to my dad, she knows it too.

_I am… and have always been, very much in love, with Olivia White – regardless of what we may have 'decided', years ago._

"Sometimes, Wendell Gifford," I mumble to myself, as I sit down at my desk, "you can be such a huge dweeb…"


	11. Chapter 9

_**nine**_

"How are the two most beautiful girls in the world today?"

"_Daddy!"_ my daughter yells, as she races over, and jumps into my arms.

"Hey, husband. How was the music business today?"

"Interesting question, actually. Wen called me this morning…"

I pause, lean over, and kiss my very pregnant wife.

"How's he doing?"

"I dunno, to be honest. Something's up – something other than what he called about. I could tell."

"What did he want?"

"Me to come over, and help a couple of his kids…"

"Wow! That's kinda cool. When are we going?"

"Victoria, you're eight months pregnant – I'm not going to drop everything, and rush to Albuquerque, just because Wendell asked me to."

"Why not? You always have before…" she replies, giving me a seriously devious smile.

When I do nothing more than stand staring at her, definitely shocked at her response, she continues.

"You do remember our vows, right? _'Our lives will merge…'_ is what we said. I told you that I would never get between you and music – and I meant it. Why do you think I tolerate _that child,"_ she pauses, and with a big smile, points at Bailey, who is still in my arms, "constantly beating on your drums? On a number of occasions, when an assignment was 'hot' and I had to fly at the drop of a hat, you stepped up, Charlie. You took responsibility for a baby, and our lives in general, and sent me on my way – because you know what writing means to me."

She pauses again, walks over, and puts a hand on my cheek.

"I know what music means to you. _It is you_… and it always will be. Wen needs you, it's about music… when do we leave babe?"

Yes, I did in fact manage to marry the most perfect woman on the planet…

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I am. But we're driving. We'll have to stop a lot, but I'm not taking the chance this baby will enter the world at 35,000 feet, in an airplane."

"We're going to see Grandma and Grandpa, Bailey…"

I squat down, stand my daughter up in front of me, and then pull my cell out of my pocket.

"And… daddy is gonna make some music…"

The moment she hears 'make music', Bailey bolts for the drum set in the family room, and even before I finish dialing, she's pounding away.

Victoria rolls her eyes, and disappears back into the kitchen.


	12. Chapter 10

_**ten**_

"Stella – it's Charlie. You got a sec?"

"Hell yes! What's the world's greatest drummer up to?"

"Scheming – what else?"

"Bet you need my help…"

"Lucky guess," I reply, laughing. "What's your schedule look like?"

"Nothing too exciting. Richard has his latest discovery here…"

"So that's where he disappeared to…" I mumble.

"We're _trying_ to turn them into a band – instead of five individuals…"

"And how's that working so far?"

"_Do not_ irritate me, Delgado… You aren't _that_ far away."

Over the years, Stella and I made it a point to remain close – partly because of the studio, but mostly because of who we are. When Richard offered me a job at the label, I found myself torn between taking it, and not abandoning Stella.

She was awesome.

After I accepted the job, I went to talk to her about it, and found her sitting in the lobby, with a box containing all the stuff from my office. When I offered to let her and Leonard buy me out, she laughed, hugged me, and said, "Until one of us dies, this will always be _our_ studio, Charlie…" Then, she handed me the box, and said, "Richard called – he wants to know why you aren't in the studio mixing something…"

Then, she simply walked away…

While everyone in the band has tried to maintain close friendships – simply because of what we shared – Stella and I go deeper than that. She is, and I believe always will be, _my best friend_.

"Can you take a break, or will Richard get his underwear wadded up?"

This time, Stella cracks up.

"Like I care? You need me, I'm there. Richard knows that. What's the plan?"

"You need to meet me at my parent's house, in three days. Wen needs some help, and I pretty sure it's right up your alley. Catch is, I want it to look like you just 'turned up'.

"Me? Being devious? How damn cool is that?"

"You may need your old Strat, too. Bring it, just in case…"

"Oh yeah? Sounds like some old school head-banging is on the menu…"

"Could be. His kids are trying to cover a song – it's an old alternative club dance track, by a group called Prozzäk. He didn't say which song, but after looking at their CD, I think I know which one it is – based on how he sounded during the conversation."

"Prozzäk? No kidding? I have one of their CDs. You do know what the premise for their music was, right?"

"No, I wasn't paying that much attention."

She laughs – I mean _really_ laughs.

"A search for true love…"

"Well damn! That kinda makes sense. The song made him think about…"

"This is gonna be fun, Charlie," Stella says, right in the middle of my sentence, "you know how much I enjoy messing with Wendell. I'm glad you invited me. I'll get hold of you once I'm there, and we can figure out how to pull this off."

"Cool," I reply, now trying not to laugh myself. "Oh, and Bailey says you have to bring Melissa."

"Crap… you remember the last time the two of them were in the same place at the same time?"

"Of course – but why should they be any different, than their parents were?"

"I'll see ya then, Charlie. Take care."

"Love ya girl! Be safe! Later."

I flip the phone closed, and sit watching my daughter play with a set of drumsticks, thinking. Will Mo be willing to get into the game? She's 6000 miles, and seven time zones away. Is the connection between the five us, still that strong?

I stand up, walk to the sliding glass door, and as I stare out at Los Angeles, mumble, "…how do I make this public? That's the only way I can actually pull this off…"

"Pull _what_ off, Charlie Delgado?" I hear from an all too familiar voice behind me, and turn to find my wife standing there, arms crossed, with a questioning glare on her face.

I reach over my head, and do the 'adjusting my halo' thing, then smile, and say, "Ohh… nothing dear…"

She rolls her eyes, shakes her head, then turns and goes back into the kitchen.

"Come on you two, if you want to eat," I hear, as she disappears, with Bailey hot on her heels.


	13. Chapter 11

_**eleven**_

"Mr. Gifford? Sorry to bother you at work, but I need some help, and Wendell is being a dweeb…"

I hear him crack up.

"Sounds like my son for sure. What can I do for you, Mohini?"

Mr. Gifford has always used my full name – which I think is kind of cool.

"I need to find Olivia, and Wen is playing dumb. Do you know where she might be right now?"

"No, I honestly don't. The last letter Wen got…"

"I know… was postmarked from Torino."

"Yep. I told Wen this morning that if he didn't do something to locate her, I intended to."

"Well, the lecture you gave us way back when aside, I wish someone would do something – the way the two of them are behaving, is really beginning to wear on my very last nerve…"

Again, I hear him laugh, while at the same moment, my phone beeps indicating I have an incoming call. I glance at the caller ID and when I see who it is, return to Mr. Gifford.

"Mr. Gifford, I need to go – Charlie is calling me. Thanks for listening, and if you do find her, _please_ let me know!"

"You're first on the list, young lady. Take care – and tell Charlie I said 'hey'."

"Will do. Bye."

I switch over to the incoming call.

"Charlie Delgado – does your wife know you are calling other women!"

"Why, are you going to tell her?"

"Yes!" I reply, laughing, which makes him laugh.

"What's up in your life, Mo?"

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why do you need to know what's up in my life?"

After a few seconds of prolonged silence, I know I'm right.

"You _are_ up to something, Charlie! What's going on?"

"Been to the States lately?"

"You know perfectly well I haven't been there since Stella gave birth."

"Well then, you need to stop by… and… visit with your _nieces_ I think."

"Nieces?"

"Yeah, they're going to be visiting their grandparents three days from tomorrow…"

"'They'? _You have Stella involved in this, too?"_

I'm certain I hear him laugh…

"And that surprises you because…?"

This time, I laugh.

"Good point."

"I'm hoping the world's best bass player will drop everything and fly to Albuquerque… just because her favorite drummer asked her to."

"Of course I will. But will you at least tell me why I'm doing it?"

"Wen and Olivia…"

"Enough said. Have you found her then?"

"_Huh?_" he blurts out.

"Well now, isn't this interesting…" I reply, with a snicker.

Charlie and I spend the next forty minutes explaining to each other what we're up to. He tells me about the song that apparently got to Wen, and I tell him about my plan to get Olivia to sing with the orchestra – and which song prompted me to do it. The moment he suggests 'making it public', I immediately know exactly how to do it.

_All I have to do… is find Olivia…_

The call finished, I sit quietly, phone in hand, in the middle of my parent's living room, starting at the fire burning in the fire place, lost in thought.

The fact that _all of us_ seem to have thought about finding Olivia, _at the same time_, is curious, to say the least.

After a few minutes, my father comes in, and stands silently watching me.

"Mohini?" he finally says, walking over, and kneeling down in front of me. "What is it, daughter?"

I smile, force myself not to laugh, and say "Fate and destiny, Papa. _Fate and destiny_."


	14. Chapter 12

_**twelve**_

_OUTSIDE STELLA'S HOUSE, AT THE WATER'S EDGE_

The day Wendell called and told me that Olivia had disappeared off the face of the earth, I went off the deep end.

It happened just before Melissa was born…

_TWENTY NINE MONTHS PRIOR  
__STELLA AND LEONARD'S HOUSE_

"Stella – please! You must calm down. Think about the baby…" Lenny said, as he grabbed my shoulders and made me sit down.

At one point during my ranting, I became so distraught, and disoriented, that my husband threatened to call for outside help.

Finally, not knowing what else to do, he did call my mom. Late the next day she, and my brothers, showed up and we had a 'family thing'.

A week later, Mr. Gifford sent each of us – the remaining band members – tickets 'home'…

The very next day, Lenny put me, along with my mom and brothers, on a plane to Albuquerque. He stayed behind to handle the studio.

_TWENTY NINE MONTHS PRIOR  
__THE GIFFORD HOME _

It took poor Mo, almost forty-eight hours of traveling to get to Albuquerque, and she looked rough when she got there. She did, however, show up with the rest of us for what Mr. Gifford was calling a 'mandatory band meeting'.

None of us had the guts to point out to him that the 'band' hadn't been in close to a year…

Instead, we all sat quietly, and listened intently, as Wen's dad did his best to clarify what he felt was happening…

"Look inside yourselves – each of you. Are you content with where life has taken you?"

Starting with Mo, he locked eyes with each of us, and held our gaze until we answered him.

"Yes sir," Mo replied.

On to Charlie…

"I am, very much so."

Then me…

As I struggled to find a comfortable position, I looked at him and said, "Definitely."

Then Wendell.

When he didn't immediately respond, Mr. Gifford actually laughed.

"Figures…"

Everyone saw the facial exchange between them, and knew it was something we weren't supposed to know about.

"Doesn't Olivia have the right to find her way – to find some kind of contentment, even if it _doesn't_ include us?"

He got us – all of us. In turn, we each answered with a mumbled 'yes'.

"If you guys turn this into some kind of bizarre spectacle by trying to hunt her down, what do you think that will do to your 'friendships'?"

"But Dad, it's already as if, in her mind, we aren't friends any longer. True friends don't just erase you and move on…"

"That's what your _eyes_ are seeing, Wendell. Try using your _heart_…"

He paused, and stared at the drink in his hands for a few seconds.

"How can you – any of you…" he asked, making eye contact with each of us, "…truly know what is going on in Olivia's head? Each of us has _'family'_ – flesh and blood we are directly related to. None of you can convince me you have any idea how Olivia sees the world… _every day_. Sure, we are all her family, but not in the same sense. We have brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, husbands and wives, and…" he paused and glanced at Charlie, then looked directly at me, "very soon, children."

We watched as he took a really deep breath, and let it out again.

"What does Olivia have?"

As I sat there, totally lost in the pain we could all see in Mr. Gifford's eyes, I finally figured it out. Until that very moment, I had never actually considered that Olivia could truly believe she was alone in the world. It was a case of taking my own life, totally for granted…

After a few moments of silent contemplation filled the room, Mr. Gifford made his final comment.

"I want the four of you to stop thinking about yourselves for just a bit – and try to think about Olivia. Weigh this – she didn't sell the house, or her car. All her bank accounts are still open – I know because my name is on all of them. And finally, not only is her studio still completely intact, but _Gram's piano_, as well as every instrument she owns, is still down there."

We watched him finish the 'something on the rocks' he'd been holding the entire time, set the glass down, then again look at us.

"I ask each of you, is that the behavior of someone who has abandoned her life?"

Then he turned and left the room, leaving each of us, with our own thoughts.

_OUTSIDE STELLA'S HOUSE, AT THE WATER'S EDGE_

Now, as I sit here watching my daughter and husband, splashing around in the crystal blue water of Lake Tahoe, almost three years later, I've made up my mind. It's time to get her back. One way or the other, it's time for all of us to face each other – no matter what that means. Charlie's call was the driving factor.

"You have always been the big destiny person, Olivia, so now yours, and ours, are about to collide…"

With a slightly devious smirk on my face, I reach down and click play on the laptop in front of me, and adjust my guitar. It's only taken me a week to cover the lead on the song, and I'm not even sure why I did.

It just seems like I'm… _supposed to_…


	15. Chapter 13

_**thirteen**_

"Thanks for walking with me, Wen…"

Courtney is beside me, holding tightly to my hand.

"This is my favorite part of the day, Court – right after the sun sets, and things cool off. Spending it with you increases that exponentially."

The look in her eyes tells me something's up – I have no idea what, but something.

"It was so awesome of your dad to take us to dinner, and that restaurant is amazing."

"That's my dad…"

"I need to tell you something, Wen – that's why I wanted to walk with you…"

"Okay," I reply, smiling, "you have my undivided attention."

"I took a few extra days off, and I'm going back to Boston early."

"Okay. And?"

"No 'and'… I just wanted to tell you. I plan on staying for a couple weeks. My sister is flying in too."

"I'll go with you, if you want me to."

"Wendell, we both know you don't want to go to Boston."

When I look at her, I can see her eyes clouding up, as the moonlight reflects in them.

"What's wrong, Court?"

"Nothing. Let's just enjoy the evening, and the walk."

She looks away, but continues to squeeze my hand.

I'm pretty sure this is the exact moment that my fifth relationship goes south.

Nine hours later, I'm still awake, watching the moon move across the sliding glass door in my – I mean _our_ – bedroom. Courtney's head is resting on my chest, her arm is wrapped securely around me, and she seems to be sleeping peacefully.

At 2:00 am, on an excessively hot desert night, while one woman sleeps on my chest, I make up my mind that I am going to find another one – and as God is my witness, she _is_ going to marry me.

Let's see you avoid that bit of _destiny,_ Olivia White.


	16. Chapter 14

_**fourteen**_

Here I sit, on the bright green grass of the Parco del Valentino, once again silently watching the Poe River, as it flows through Torino, Italy, on its way… somewhere.

And, as usual, I'm writing – or actually typing.

I suppose I should explain how I ended up here – close to 6000 miles from 'home'…

Nine months after our final show at the high school, I left Albuquerque, to find something. I had no idea what, but I had the most bizarre and persistent feeling that I was _supposed_ to be somewhere other than where I was – even if I had no idea where, or why. So one afternoon, with a backpack, a credit card, and my passport, I got on a plane.

I ran away – not the way I had intended, but ran away none the less. I'd meant to just leave – no warnings, no discussions, just get up one morning and go. But, I sorta got busted in the act of sneaking off…

_TWENTY NINE MONTHS PRIOR  
__OLIVIA'S HOUSE_

I wrote a long letter to Wendell, asking him to keep an eye on the house and my car, suggesting he may want to rent the house out – if he found someone he trusted. That was my way of telling him I was going to be gone awhile. I checked carefully to make sure only the very necessary things had power, and that everything was locked. Then I called a cab to take me to airport. That's where it got complicated…

As I stepped off the porch, I saw Sydney standing next to my cab, looking _very_ irritated. I knew I was in trouble, the moment our eyes met.

"Why, Olivia?" she asked, leaning into the cab, and handing the driver a twenty dollar bill.

"We won't need you – sorry for the inconvenience."

The look on her face was enough to ensure I didn't question her actions.

"Sydney… I have to. Honest to God… I have to do this."

"I repeat – _why?_"

She pointed at her truck which was in the driveway, and without a word, I turned and headed toward it.

Over the years, she and I have become close to a point that can't really be explained. In my mind, Sydney is, in every logical aspect, my older sister.

"There has to be more to it than this, Syd… there has to be…" I said in answer to her question, as she opened the door and waited for me to get in. She closed the door, and I watched her walk around and get in behind the wheel.

She sat there, hands on the steering wheel, staring at the front of the house – in silence. Finally, after glancing at me, she started the truck and backed out. It took less than a minute before I figured out she was taking me to the airport. When we got there, she pulled off short of the entrance and parked alongside the road.

"Olivia, I'm scared – for you. No one – _none of us_ – is ever going to be able to understand what it means to be you. And we both know it's not something you could ever explain. I just really need to know that you do realize you _aren't alone_ – you _do_ have family…"

Looking her in the eyes, was almost impossible…

"My heart tells me you are about to go down a dangerous path, but it also knows I can't – and shouldn't – stop you."

"Syd… I'm telling you… I am supposed to do this. For the last few months, I've had the weirdest feeling that Wen too, has to go a direction – _a specific direction._"

I could see in her eyes what she wanted to say – what she wanted to say almost every time we talked.

"I can't, Sydney – I just can't. Even though my heart desperately wants to, my brain keeps telling me that if we do it, all we'll do is screw up our lives."

At this point, both of us are fighting to control the tears.

"I just need some time to figure Olivia out… that's all. And, Wendell needs to travel the path he is supposed to."

I reached out, and gently squeezed her hand.

"Remember, the future can, and usually does, surprise us. Who knows where we'll end up?"

"Think about this, Olivia – ever since Grams died, you have been running – constantly. I've never figured out if it has been to, or away from something. Eventually, you'll have to stop. You know as well as I do, destiny can't be avoided…

"That's the point, Sydney – I honestly believe Wen and I have to travel different paths, to get where we're going."

For just a moment, I got the strangest rush, and broke out in goose bumps.

"It's… well… _necessary._"

Sydney gave me an odd look, then put the truck in gear, and continued into the airport. Five minutes later, she pulled up in front of the departure terminal.

"You _are_ taking this," she said, pulling a gray cell phone out of her purse, "and you _will not_ toss it or ignore it. When I call it, your sorry little butt _will_ answer it – every damn time. _Do you understand me?_"

I let out muffled laugh, realizing that I had the most awesome 'big sister' in the world. I took the phone and accessories, and put them in my backpack.

"It's already set up for international use, and I will be paying the bill. It has every possible plug you could need to charge it, so you can't use 'dead battery' as an excuse. I know I can't make you use it, but for God's sake, Olivia, please don't cut us off completely…"

"Who knows about it?" I asked, wiping the tears off my face.

"Me and you. If you will play my way, I give you my word, I won't tell anyone – not even your 'dad' – about it, short of some dire emergency."

I leaned over, hugged her, and said, "Fair enough. I'll keep it on during the day, and if it rings, I answer – promise."

She gently kissed my forehead and as the tears began to trickle down her cheeks, whispered "I will ask God, every day, to watch over you. Take care, Olivia, and remember we're here, waiting for you…"

I got out and hurried into the airport, forcing myself not to look back. An hour and twenty-two minutes later the plane lifted off, and my adventure began – and I think I may have cried all the way to England…

_BACK IN THE PARCO DEL VALENTINO  
__TORINO, ITALY_

So, the rest of the story…

Just short of a year into my adventure, I acquired a 'traveling companion' – his name is Christopher…

_NINETEEN MONTHS PRIOR  
__ON A TRAIN  
__SOMEWHERE BETWEEN ENGLAND AND FRANCE_

Having gone back to England to straighten out some passport and visa issues, I was headed back to Europe to continue my adventure.

I was sitting alone, eyes closed, listening to _Journeys End_, when my epiphany occurred.

I heard a strange series of notes – musical notes – over the music playing in my ears, which made me open my eyes.

When he came into the car, the first thought I had was, 'he looks so stressed'.

As I pulled the buds out of my ears, we made eye contact, and I smiled at him. When the doors between the cars hissed closed, I again heard the notes…

_And my heart stopped…_

It was as if someone put my brain on a loop, and the same notes kept playing in my head, over and over, as he walked past me, without even a nod. In the blink of an eye, my mind flashed back to a piano keyboard, in a cabin, in the New Mexico wilderness… and everything came into perfect focus.

Then, it got even stranger. When the doors cycled a second time, I turned to find a young couple had come through them – _without the musical notes playing! _There was a hiss of air, as they pneumatically opened and closed, and nothing else.

Realization flooded into me.

It's him! _He's the reason I'm here!_

I dropped everything on the seat next to me, jumped up, and was about to go after him, but when I turned around, there he was – standing there, staring at me. Still frowning, he introduced himself, and extended his hand. The moment I took it… I knew.

The final oddity of the situation – as I was standing there, holding his hand and looking into his eyes, the doors again opened, and yes, _the same series notes from my dream_, played again…

I'd left Mesa, so that destiny could ensure _I'd be in this exact spot, at this exact moment…_

_BACK IN THE PARCO DEL VALENTINO  
__TORINO, ITALY_

Christopher – who is three years older than me – is running away from something. His life, his family… what he believes is his destiny. He's been 'running' six months longer than I have been 'searching'.

I made it clear to him, the very first night we spent together in Paris – there was no room in my life for a 'significant other'. I had to figure 'me' out before I could even begin to consider an emotional relationship – with anyone.

Truth is… even after three years, I'm still not over my first one.

The first question everyone asks – are we in love?

I'm not. I can't speak for Christopher.

The answer to the next question is yes, there is a 'physical' aspect to our relationship – sort of. It's strange in that it isn't a constant thing. It's usually spontaneous, and will go on for a while, once it starts. To see us, you would think we were in fact a 'couple'. Then, days, weeks – and once, months later, we're back to being Christopher and Olivia.

Two _friends_ on an adventure.

It is important to point out that 'physical' didn't begin immediately. We actually shared rooms, and beds, for almost seven months, before it happened the first time.

And, truth is, it was me who initially instigated it – not him.

I'm still struggling mentally, with all of that – and what it says about me as a person.

A lot of my confusion comes out when I write…

Anyhow, for the last year and a half, we've been living our adventure together – one day at a time. So far, it's been completely amazing.


	17. Chapter 15

_**fifteen **_

Tomorrow morning, I am leaving for the States.

Right now, however, I'm sitting at a table outside 'The Café' – the same place Lenny and Stella had their 'moment' – waiting for Martha. We're going to eat, and then we're off to a jazz club to hear a new local sax player.

Because there are a lot of university students in the area, it isn't unusual to hear music – usually _loud_ – as cars pass by. This time, it's a bright red BMW with its windows down. I recognize the song – _Hostage_ by Ransom – the moment I hear it, and momentarily get a rush of goose bumps.

It's the last commercial song Olivia wrote, before she 'got on with her life'. That's what we decided to call what she'd done – instead of 'disappearing'. I'm not sure why, but when I first heard it, I memorized the words.

Now, although the car has passed, the lyrics are still playing in my head.

Shaking off the thought, I put in my ear buds, and am about to push play on my iPod, when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey…" I hear whispered behind me, and turn to find Martha.

"Hey," I reply, pulling the buds out, and laying the iPod on the table.

"Whatcha listening to?"

"The song from the CD… again. I'm still trying to figure out 'who' and 'why'."

"It's really bugging you, isn't it?"

"Yeah… and I don't even know why. I swore that part of my life was behind me now…"

"Oh come on, Mo… do we – _any of us_ – ever truly leave our past behind?"

I sit staring at her, thinking about what she said…

"It's okay, Mo – you need to accept that. You guys were awesome – hell, you were actually pretty epic. All of that is still – and will always be – part of you. The Hall isn't a stadium, and a forty piece orchestra isn't a pop band. Quit trying to lose yourself in _this life_, in an attempt to forget _that life_. It isn't – _as you can see_ – working and it never will. You have to find space for both in your life, or you are gonna end up miserable."

I sit and stare at her for a moment, my mind racing. Then, for the first time in well over two years, my emotions actually get away from me – probably because of the 'Olivia' situation. When my heart overrides my brain, and takes control of my mouth, I don't even try to stop it.

"I miss it Marti… I _really, really_, miss it. And…" I feel my eyes begin to tear up, "_I really miss them…_"

"And… I bet if you ask your friends, you will discover, they miss it, and you, just as much," she replies, smiling at me. "Maybe…" she continues, "it's time? Your fans – _me included_ – have waited a long time…"

She's interrupted when my phone, lying on the table next to my purse, starts ringing. I smile at Martha, reach out and gently squeeze her hand, then pick up the phone. When I glance at the caller ID, I recognize the country code, and the area code, but have no idea whose number it is. I flip it open and answer it.

"Mohini."

"Mo, what's your current email address?" a female voice – that sounds somehow familiar – asks.

"Excuse me?"

"I need your email address – and more importantly, _you need_ what I am going to send you."

"I see. Do you make it a habit to call strangers and ask them for email addresses?"

"Oh, Mohini… you know me far better than you think. And, it's probably better you don't recognize my voice."

The moment she uses my full name, I know.

"Okay, let's say I give you the address, why do I need what you are going to send?" I reply, playing along, and resisting the urge to verify who I suspect it is.

"Because two days ago you started on a quest, but were stalled. This is what you need to continue that quest…"

"popbassist2 at uk dot yahoo dot com," I immediately blurt out.

"Check it in say… ten minutes. Make sure you are at an internet capable computer – not your phone – when you do. Follow the instructions and you'll understand the 'why'…"

"Okay. And thank you."

"YOU have to finish this, Mo… for all of us. I've done what I can."

She breaks the connection before I can respond, so I close the phone and sit staring blankly at Martha.

"That was a bizarrely cryptic conversation – do I want to know what it was about?"

"Fate and destiny, Marti… fate and destiny," I reply, standing up and dropping a tip on the table. "Come on, I need to find a computer."

"Sit," she immediately replies, laughing and pulling her HP Mini out of her backpack, and putting it on the table.

"Can you get it online?"

"Yes, silly, it has a built-in air card."

I drop back into my chair, and watch as she powers it up, logs into her provider, and then spins it around so it's facing me.

"There you go. You aren't going to hack anything, are you? I don't want the police after me…" she says, a big goofy grin covering her face.

"I dunno, let's find out."

I log into my account, and find an email from someone called 'finaldestiny2020', which I immediately open.

Inside are two things:

An address for a website – 'webtracker' – along with a login and password

And below it, a long number – NZ876-99870-101761-AZUSA

With Martha diligently watching my every keystroke, I log into the website and, once the welcome screen appears, read the instructions – which are absurdly simple.

"Type in the identifier assigned to the device you wish to track," I read out loud, and then do.

When I hit 'return', immediately a small, animated icon appears with the word 'CHECKING' blinking under it. Seconds later, a small pop-up window appears with the message, 'THAT IS A VALID SYSTEM IDENTIFIER'. Just as quickly as it appeared, it disappears, and the blinking word under the animated icon changes to 'SEARCHING'. Ten seconds later, the icon disappears and a map of Italy replaces the login screen.

"_oh my god…_" arbitrarily comes out of my mouth.

As soon as the map finishes loading, the icon returns, and as it does its animation thing, the words 'DEVICE LOCATED – TRACKING' appear under it. Ten seconds later, the map reloads, and zooms on a specific part of Torino, Italy. One blink of an eye later, in an area labeled a park, next to a river, a blinking red 'cell phone' icon appears, with a latitude and longitude beside it.

I burst into tears the moment I read the caption under it: 'Little Sister'

My heart races as I realize that it _was__ Sydney_ on the phone. More importantly, she's just given me the means to find Olivia.

Then, in the midst of all the tension, and euphoria, a single thought pops into my head, and I inadvertently verbalize it…

"_Apparently, Sydney has known all along, where Olivia is…"_

Tears now freely trickling down my cheeks, I pull out my phone and dial. He answers on the first ring.

"Charlie… it's me. Something's come up and I'm gonna have to postpone coming…"


	18. Chapter 16

_**sixteen**_

"Okay, Miss White, you ready to go eat?"

Christopher, who just walked up, is holding out his hand to me.

"Did you talk to your boss?" I ask, letting him pull me to my feet.

"I did. He understands, but isn't happy that I quit. What about you?"

"I told Maria we were leaving," I reply, locking my fingers through his, as we cross the park, headed for our favorite café. "She's sad, but understands I think."

"I told the landlord we'll be gone in a week. He said we were wonderful tenants, and he hopes we will seek him out if we come back."

"Not likely," I reply, kissing Christopher on the cheek.

It's time for us to move on – to continue on the path, and see where it leads. A new place, new acquaintances, and new jobs. A new life. We take turns deciding when to go, and where to go. In the last eighteen months, we've lived – however briefly – in six different towns, in four different countries. I honestly believe that everyone should do this – for at least a little while – to gain a better understanding of the world around us.

"I guess I'm picking this time, right?"

"Uh-huh," I reply, leaning over and gently biting his earlobe.

He smiles at me, makes a quick turn, and five minutes later, we're home – instead of at dinner.

We've slipped back into one of our 'amorous' periods, and for the last few days, all I want is to be next to him – in contact with him. Sometimes, I feel Christopher and I are quite possibly, the two most _physically_ compatible people on the entire planet, as bad as that sounds.

Our seemingly perfect compatibility leads to an ongoing question I've been asking God… _'How can two people be so totally compatible, and yet not be in love?'_

And, of course, I keep answering my own question…

'_Because I am, and always have been, completely lost in the very first love of my life.'_

That being said, why am I still here, with Christopher? Why haven't I gone back?

_What am I so damn afraid of?_

Just one, of many examples, showing how convoluted and screwed up, Olivia's head is.

As I lay here, completely exhausted, my head resting on Christopher's chest, the rhythmic beating of his heart filling my mind, my thoughts are actually elsewhere – still locked into a looping playback of a strange sensation, I felt earlier, at the park.

Something is about to change… I can feel it.

_Something other than us moving on…_


	19. Chapter 17

_**seventeen**_

"Georgia – want to do your brother a favor?"

"Of course. Whacha need?" Georgia replies.

My little sister – who is now actually sixteen, and not all the 'little' anymore – is at the house to sort some school papers, and enter some grades into the school computer for me, just as she does every Thursday afternoon. In addition to being 'grown up', she's also outgrown her nickname, and prefers to be called by her given name – which I think is awesome.

"Call this guy," I hand her a yellow sticky I'm holding, "and tell him I need to talk to him about one of his old songs. If you get a secretary or something, use Stella's studio or the band's name to get through. Be your tricky, sneaky little self, and get me five minutes to talk to him."

"I'm on it."

She takes the slip of paper, walks over, sits down at my desk, and picks up the phone.

"Hey," I hear from behind me, and feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist.

I spin around, and gently kiss Courtney.

"Hey babe."

"Can I borrow you, while your admin assistant hustles people for you?"

"I heard that!" Georgia blurts out, making us laugh.

"Sure. Front steps? Or…" I whisper, glancing at my sister, "did you have something else in mind?"

"Although tempting, the front steps would be more appropriate."

I follow her down the hall, onto the porch, and then sit down beside her on the steps.

"I'm not coming back, Wendell."

"_Huh?"_

"Here…" she says, holding out her key ring, "…and thank you. Maybe your dad will let you give the car to Georgia."

She caught me so completely off guard, that for the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm truly speechless. When I don't say anything, she continues.

"Oh come on, Wen. You can't tell me you weren't expecting this."

"Just like that? What's going on Court?"

"It's time for _both of us_ to be honest. Neither of us really wants to keep doing this…"

It's as if she reached in, and grabbed my heart. I'm pretty sure my facial expression, the moment she says it, totally gives me away. After a few seconds, she reaches over and takes my hands.

"Look… back when we started this, I told you about my past, and how I ended up here. You know that I ran away, and why. I was young, Wendell, and didn't know what else to do.

"When you found me, I was a mess, but the first time you touched me, my heart relaxed and my problems seem to fade. You took a huge chance, when you gave me a chance. A _week_ after you met me, you took me to Paris – _for no particular reason._ Who does that for someone they just met, Wendell?

"You – _and your family_ – welcomed me with open arms, and made me feel like I belong. For that I will be eternally grateful to all of you.

Her eyes are beginning to glass over, and it's apparent she is going to cry.

"But… well… I have to find out for sure, Wen."

All I can do is watch, as the tears slowly begin to trickle down her cheeks.

"When I get there, I intend to try to find him. My sister is going to help me. Thing is, my heart won't let me do that without telling you first…"

She reaches up, wipes the tears from her cheeks, and even before she continues, they are quickly replaced by fresh ones.

"I have no idea what might have become of me, if it had been anyone other than you, that found me, Wendell. You have become the single most important person in the last year and a half of my life, and I wouldn't change any of it. But I need to know. I need to see him… to have him tell me if we can recover after all this time. Once he does that, I'll accept whatever answer he gives me, and move on. Not knowing, is worse than knowing I've lost him."

She pauses for a second, as if trying to decide how to continue.

"My heart keeps telling me that it would be totally unfair to leave you here, thinking that I'm coming back to pick up where we left off, when I know perfectly well that's not going to happen…"

"I know Courtney… I know. I do believe we love each other, but in all fairness, neither of us is _in love_ with the other."

"I suspected you might feel that way…"

She looks down at our hands, and sits silently for a moment.

"Sometimes…" she finally says, lifting her head and looking at me, "when you are looking at me, your eyes tell me you are seeing her – seeing Olivia."

I feel myself blush, the moment she says it.

"For the last six months, it's been more pronounced. And of course, there are the lyrics…"

"You've read them?"

"Yes. You leave them lying around a lot. I figured…"

"And you're right. If I didn't want you reading them I would have put them away. Olivia has always had a way with words… with verse. And even though at times, one has to concentrate, she always seems to be able to convey her message."

"Are _you_ getting the message, Wendell? You two need to quit torturing yourselves – and everyone else in your lives as well – and concede that it's your destiny to be together. Everyone else can see it Wen, why can't the two of you?"

We hear the squeak at the same moment, and turn to find my sister standing there, sad-faced, staring at us.

Georgia lets go of the screen door, takes a step down, pushes in between us, and sits down. She turns and faces Courtney first.

"My brother has managed to date two totally awesome girls in his life – you're the second of the two. I've gotten really attached to you, Courtney, and no matter what happens here and now, I honestly hope that as I get older, and find my way in the world, you will still be there – as my friend and big sister."

Courtney finally smiles, wipes her cheeks, and hugs Georgia. Then, my little sister turns to face me.

"Wendell Gifford – you are my big brother, and the closest person to me in the entire world. But, for the last three years, you and my other 'big sister' have been behaving like a couple of big dweebs. Courtney is totally right on this one. Would you please quit screwing around and do what needs to be done?

She leans over, kisses my cheek, then stands up and heads back into the house, pausing at the door.

"And, Mr. Levine – who made the comment, _"…Wen Gifford? Wasn't he in a band called…"_ to which I replied, 'yes he was' – told me to have you call him anytime about his songs. He said his secretary would put you through, no questions asked. I left the number he gave me on your desk. I'm going to the gym – see you guys later."

"Hey!" I yell after her, as the screen slams, "How'd you pull that off?"

"Easy!" she yells back. After a few seconds she reappears, backpack over her shoulder, arms full of books, and again steps between us. She's halfway to Olivia's Jeep Cherokee, which is parked at the curb, when she answers my question – over her shoulder, without looking back.

"He thinks I'm Lemonade Mouth's new producer…"

Courtney and I break up laughing as we watch her get into the Jeep, start it, and then disappear down the street.

Our last night together is a quiet, solemn one. Courtney falls asleep with her head on my chest – for the last time. And… for the first time in months, I too, fall soundly asleep.

The next day, I stand quietly and watch, as Courtney passes through the security checkpoint at the airport, and then disappears into the crowd, without looking back.

As strange as it will sound, I have a bizarre feeling that, even as short as it was, her presence in my life, was… well… _planned_.

As Olivia would say… _it was supposed to happen – __exactly the way it did__._


	20. Chapter 18

_**eighteen**_

"You look _beautiful_, Mohini. Each time you dress, you remind me of your grandmother, when she was young. You honor your father…"

"As it should be, Papa. Although I am quite 'Americanized', I still believe that it is a daughter's place to please her father whenever possible."

My father is right – when I dress traditionally, I get noticed.

_A lot._

Even on an airplane.

Guys my age, older men, even young kids – _of all ethnicities_ – seemed drawn to me when I wear the Ghagra Cholis – more so, when I wear this particular one.

The lehnga – or skirt – is made of jet-black silk, and mesh, and is covered with brilliant red embroidery, and accents. The choli – or blouse – has a halter top, and is, with the exception of a single strap, completely backless, fits quite tightly, and ends just below my breasts, leaving most of my upper body visible.

In truth, I was shocked when first, _my mother_ picked it out, and then, my father actually agreed to buy it for me.

And yes… it did take me a while to get comfortable with having so much of me… well… _visible_.

"And thank you, from the deepest part of me, Papa – for coming with me. Your strength will help me."

"Remember when you last went in search of your friends?"

"I do."

"Although I was hesitant, from that experience I learned that some things simply must be done – without explanation. Olivia needs you and so, you must go."

I lean forward as my father puts a shawl over my bare shoulders, and then wraps it around me. I smile at him, then reach down and smoothed the wrinkles from my skirt.

We land in Torino just after 7:00 pm, take a taxi to a very nice hotel my father made reservations at, and check in. When he suggests two rooms, I laugh and tell the clerk that one room, with two beds, will be fine.

As the clerk completes her paperwork, I turn to face my father.

"Papa… I'm not so old that I can't still share a room with my father."

My father and the clerk laugh. She hands us our key cards, then looks directly at me.

"Miss Banjaree – that is the most beautiful outfit I have seen in a very long time. I cannot imagine it could be so beautiful on anyone else…"

Yeah… she made me blush. Instantly.

Once we make it to the room, I get into my sweats and then sit crossed-legged on the bed, Martha's laptop in front of me, staring at the screen. After a few moments, my father comes and sits next to me.

"Such deep thought, daughter. I will listen, if you wish to talk."

"I'm wondering if what I'm about to do, is a good thing."

"What do you mean?"

"Why am I doing it – to help Olivia, or is it just selfish intent? If she wanted contact with us…"

"Perhaps, Mono, she needs only a nudge – just as she did, all those years ago."

When I look at him, the warm smile on his face puts me at ease. I log in, and once again, try to find my missing friend.

This time, instead of finding Olivia's phone, I get a message telling me the phone is apparently turned off. The system does, however, give me 'the last known location of the device' – which, after I use the system to locate my computer, turns out to be less than two miles from me.

Sleep, I know, is going to be impossible.


	21. Chapter 19

_**nineteen**_

Because Christopher agreed to finish out the week, he got up this morning, and went to work at the small computer shop, in the downtown area, that took a chance and hired him seven weeks earlier. Part of the deal that was struck, was that Christopher would help the owner, Alberto, and his son Matteo, with their English. It's something Christopher truly enjoys, and thrusts himself into completely. On occasion, I stop by and get into it as well, mostly because the vigor the two of them exhibit, while walking round repeating things in English, truly astounds me. _They really want to learn English._

My job at a small, local café has always been more of a 'mercy assist', than a real job. When I explain to Gina what's going on, she tells me that I should spend my time planning our trip, and that she'll be fine. She gives me her address and phone number, telling me that no matter where my journey takes me, she hopes I will find time to stay in touch with her. When she hugs me for the last time, she says, "Friends made in Italy, become family, and last until time ends."

Having five hours to kill, I am once again sitting on the grass in the park, writing – this time, lyrics generated by listening to my 'phantom CD'. It's as if something inside, is driving me to compose them, so I simply let my mind and fingers go…

The moment the pocket of my sweater starts ringing, I smile and pull out the gray, rubberized phone I've carried with me every day, for the last thirty-one months.

"Hey Sydney!"

"Hey little sister. You ready to come home yet?"

"No, Syd… not quite yet. Soon, though."

"I still miss you."

"Back atcha."

"Everything's good in your world?"

"It is…"

"Well… be safe and think about me."

"Every day, Sydney… every day."

"Love you girl. Talk to you soon. Bye."

"Bye…"

Just like I do each time she calls, I force back the tears, close the phone, and put it back in my pocket.

We've had that exact same conversation fifty-one times in the last two years – and yes, I have been counting.

Sydney didn't call me at all during the first four months I was gone. I think that she was hoping I'd get home sick, turn around, and go back. When that didn't happen, the calls started.

At first, she did her best to talk me into going back, and when that didn't work, she took to calling twice a day – hoping, I think, to 'interrupt' something, or perhaps, to get someone else to answer the phone.

After seven months of silliness, we finally had to actually talk. I told her she had to accept what I was doing, and that until I sorted out my heart, I couldn't come 'home'. At one point, although I wouldn't have really done it, I threatened to mail the phone back to her.

I think that was her breaking point – the point at which Sydney conceded defeat. She apologized, crying the entire time. I told her that she was my anchor, and that I wanted to hear from her – but that she had to stop using our communication as a means of coercion.

She didn't call again for two weeks – which, at the time, did freak me out a bit. The day before she did call, I was actually considering calling her. We finally agreed that she would call every other week – on a day of her choosing – just to check on me. If I wanted to talk, good, if not, we'd keep it short.

What I do find amusing, is that she always seems to know when it's 'day' where I am – although I've never once told her where I am, nor has she asked. She's never once called after the sun has set – no matter what time zone I'm in.

I owe Sydney – big time – and I know that. Because of her concern, I still have a 'home' – a place to return to, when I'm ready.

As words flow from my head to my keyboard, 'the song' is playing in my ears for hundredth time in the last week. I backspace, change this, move that, and then start the process again. As I continue what can sometimes become a tense emotional battle, my thoughts drift to Wendell… and all the random stuff I've sent him over the last two years. I know he's been writing for a bunch of new artists since I left, and figure Richard probably keeps him pretty busy with his upstarts as well. At one point I saw an interview with the group 'Hot Chelle Rae', and they mentioned that Wen wrote two of the songs on their new album.

The one absolute constant in the entire universe that I'm certain of is, Wendell Gifford and music, will be eternally synonymous. And, if you think about it, that probably applies to me as well. No matter where I am, who I am with, or what I may be doing, I write – constantly.

I have no idea what – other than fate and destiny – makes me raise my head when I do, but the moment I see her, my heart stops. Not because she's here – _in Italy_ – but because of how utterly amazing she looks.

She's wearing the most beautiful jet-black, traditional Indian outfit I have ever seen. Her shiny, jet-black hair, hanging loosely around her shoulders, is being gently blown by the wind, as she crosses the park at a moderate pace.

Around her neck is a silver and onyx choker that matches her earrings, the bangles on her wrists, and the chain hanging across her quite bare tummy.

When I glance around, I realize that every single head she passes turns, and watches her, not looking away until she finally stops directly in front of me.

Completely speechless, at this point, I watch as she carefully lifts her skirt, so she will have room to move, and then kneels down on the grass, directly opposite me.

Truth is… I simply can't remember ever seeing _anything_ as beautiful as Mo is, at this exact moment.

"Maim tumhēm yāda hai, Olivia White," she says in Hindi so perfect, you would think it's her first language. When I sit silent, and motionless – still in a state of shock – for a few seconds, she leans over, gently kisses my cheek, and says, "I've missed you, Olivia."

I burst full-on into tears. The deep sobbing kind.

It takes over thirty minutes, and the constant consoling of Mr. Banjaree – who appeared out of nowhere – to bring my emotions back under control.


	22. Chapter 20

_**twenty**_

We're sitting at a sidewalk table, at Christopher's favorite café. I meet him here every afternoon, and we walk home together.

Yes, I'm scared. Actually, petrified is a better word – which becomes blatantly evident, when I reach down, and pick up my coffee. The moment Mo sees how badly my hand is shaking, she reaches over, takes my free hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. I take a sip of coffee, and give her a forced smile.

The two parts of my life that I've managed to keep separate for a year and a half, are about to collide, and there is no way to stop it.

I'm only half-listening to Mo tell me about her plan to have me sing with their orchestra, when Christopher appears up the street from us. The moment I put the cup down, Mo notices the change in my demeanor and she looks up the street, and at the same time, again gently squeezes my hand.

"It's okay, Olivia. _Relax._"

"Mono is right…" Mr. Banjaree offers, smiling, and placing his hand over both of ours. "We are not here to interfere or judge, only to recover something that has been missing from our lives, for far too long."

I try to relax, but they know the smile I give them is both nervous, and very forced. I stand up as Christopher approaches us, and Mr. Banjaree stands as well, introducing himself, and shaking Christopher's hand, even before I say anything.

It's awkward – for both of us – but Christopher handles it well.

I start to kiss Christopher, and when he hesitates, opting not to kiss me, Mr. Banjaree is all over it.

"Your behavior is making us feel unwelcome," he says, glaring directly at me. "You two are more than friends – any person with common sense can see that in your eyes. Do not embarrass yourselves, as well as us, by acting otherwise."

Mo immediately stands up, and kisses her father on the cheek.

"You are the most awesome man I know, Papa."

I feel the tears coming, because none of them – meaning the band – has ever seen me with anyone other than Wendell. But, I do kiss Christopher – just as passionately as I ever have.

Once the awkwardness of the moment subsides, Christopher turns, and to my complete surprise, stands silently staring at Mo – for long enough that, even with her dark complexion, Mo begins to blush.

"Mr. Banjaree – it is not my intention to offend you," he says, never taking his eyes off Mo, who is now blushing rather badly, "but your daughter, _is __the most beautiful woman__ I have ever seen…_"

"_oh my god…"_ Mo mutters, as a wave of embarrassment totally engulfs her.

I watch, smiling, as Christopher takes her hand, ever so gently kisses it, and then lets it go. The thing I find really intriguing about the whole situation is, _not once_ in a year and a half, have I _ever_ seen Christopher give another female, anything more than a cursory glance.

"Mohini… it is my belief that all the men of the world will suffer a great loss, when one is lucky enough to capture your heart."

Mo looks as if she is gonna faint – I swear. Her dad sees it as well and quickly rescues her.

"Please, Christopher, sit and let us learn about each other. I am quite curious, to say the least, about the man who has so enthralled our Olivia."

We sit drinking coffee, and talking, well into the evening, and what I feared would turn into a disaster, is anything but.

Christopher, blatantly enthusiastic about finally being allowed into the 'secret' part of my life, opens up. Mo and her father are excited about simply having found me.

But, as is usually the case, along with the positive, there usually comes a negative. I somehow know this is the beginning of the end for Christopher and me. The look in his eyes a number of times during the afternoon tells me he too, realizes it. It has so far been, just he and I – in the present. Now that _my_ past has caught up with us, that's over.

The comforting thing is, Christopher's body language tells me it's okay… that _we_ will be okay.

Once we get back to the apartment, the changes begin almost immediately. The previous two weeks of amorous silliness in our bedroom, ends abruptly that night. We go back to being Christopher and Olivia – two _friends_ who, it seems, realize that their amazing adventure is about to come to an end…


	23. Chapter 21

_**twenty-one**_

I'm sitting at my Roland, at the back of the Music Hall stage, playing with some effects, when Pete walks up behind me.

"What's that, Mr. Gifford? Sounds familiar…"

"It's background from that CD they delivered in class last week. I've been trying to figure out how they created it."

"Can I try something?" he asks.

"Always…"

I watch, as he feeds it through a digital mixer in a computer next to us, and immediately starts clicking things. After thirty seconds, he laughs and looks at me.

"'It's a voice Mr. Gifford – they ran a voice through a synthesizer."

"And when did you get so smart?"

"I dunno… I'm always messing with stuff on my computer…"

"Can we hear it without the effects?"

"Maybe…" he replies, and again starts clicking things. Seconds later, we hear a female voice through the speakers stacked at the back of the stage. At the same time, Patty and Melinda appear behind us.

"Her pitch is a bit off," Melinda says, making some of the kids near the stage laugh.

I'm right at the point of laughing myself, when an odd clicking sound fills the auditorium, and quickly becomes a repeating rhythm. Pete reaches over, shuts off the music, and we turn in unison, to find the source of the sound, only to discover a grinning Charlie Delgado, drumsticks ticking away, walking down the aisle toward the stage.

As my mind flashes back to a detention room years ago, I cross the stage to the grand piano, sit down, and jumped right into the song – _the very first song we ever played together_…

Patty, now standing next to the practice drum set, recognizes the song and, as the excitement of the moment sweeps over her, glances at me. In the time it takes me to laugh and nod, the percussion part of the song fills the Hall. It takes less than a heartbeat, for Melinda to join us as well.

And no, I'm not surprised – fact is, the kids can actually play almost all of Lemonade Mouth's songs.

"_Oh yeah!"_ Charlie yells, as he climbs the steps of the stage. _"Go for it!"_

Smiling, I glance back up the aisle, and see a _very pregnant_ Vicki – who has the goofiest grin on her face – sitting down in one of the seats, and Bailey in the aisle next to her, already dancing away with a couple of students.

Charlie picks up a bass guitar from a stand, and does his best to fake the bass line – which makes me laugh. I nod at Pete, who has been patiently waiting, and using my Roland, he picks up the keyboards. I in turn, sit listening, and watching as the four of them crank out _Turn Up The Music_…

It's actually kind of amazing, and you can tell by their faces, the kids too, are caught up in the moment.

Within seconds – as is usually the case in the Hall – all the kids present are clapping to the beat, dancing, and urging them on.

I slide the stool back a bit, and am about to stand up, when without warning, I'm completely blown away, by an _incredible_ unamplified voice that fills the Hall – at the exact point in the song when it should.

_We got nuthin' better to do  
We're just tryin' to get through  
Can you hear me?_

All the clapping stops, the kids dancing suddenly stop moving, and every single head in the building turns in the direction of voice.

I too, find my head following the amazing sound, only to find Sally Wright – a freshman who has shown an interest in music – sitting at the edge of the stage, feet dangling, swaying back and forth – _and singing_.

Until that exact moment, I had absolutely _no clue_…

The kids on stage never miss a beat as Sally sits, eyes closed, her feet keeping time to the music, and belts out _Turn Up The Music_ as if it had been written for her.

I get goose bumps… _and_ have a serious flashback…

Patty and Melinda – who usually do the vocals – quickly fall in, and start singing back-up without any prompting. When I catch them grinning at each other, I begin to wonder.

I turn my attention back to Sally, realizing that I am listening to what has to be, short of Olivia, the purest, most unfettered voice I have ever heard. And considering her lack of any kind of formal training, her pitch control is frighteningly perfect.

Just like Olivia, she is apparently a natural vocalist…

When I turn, and glance at Charlie, standing behind me, he immediately raises his eyebrows and gives me a 'can you believe it?' look.

I continue toward the front of the stage, as a number of other kids start to crowd around our new vocalist. I quickly wave at them, and put a finger to my lips, hoping to keep them from spooking Sally, who is already into the second stanza. The kids, understanding my signal, all stop short, and once again, begin to dance.

Within seconds, the usual thing happens. Whenever a real song is played, the Hall always breaks out in singing and dancing. Before the kids make it to the final stanza, at least twenty-five _other_ kids, have filtered in, and are dancing and singing, everywhere.

I'm fairly certain this is going to warrant a 'chewing out' from the principle – again. Rule is – NO impromptu 'concerts'. But, hearing this little girl's voice, I know it just doesn't matter.

The kids play through to the end of the song, and when I turn and look behind me, I catch Melinda high-fiving Pete, and see they both have huge grins on their faces. The moment the last note fades, the Hall erupts in cheering, clapping, and whistling.

Laughing myself, I quickly take the few steps to where Sally is sitting with her eyes closed, and sit down next to her.

"Do that very often, Sally?"

"Huh?" she replies, visibly embarrassed and blushing badly. After a second, she opens her eyes, looks first at the group of kids standing in front of her, then turns and looks at me.

"Breaking out in song – do you do it very often?

"Not usually…" she replies, in barely a whisper. "I get embarrassed easily. I just _really_ like that song…"

As we're talking, Vicki walks up, with Bailey right next to her.

"You sing really good!" Bailey blurts out, following it with a giggle.

Sally smiles at her, and again blushes – badly.

"Embarrassed? _Why?_" Vicki asks, stepping over and putting a hand on Sally's leg. "You have an _unbelievable_ voice, Sally. That's nothing to be embarrassed about."

Vicki's comment is quickly followed by a number of 'totally's' and some 'no doubt's' and even a couple of '_SERIOUSLY!_'s' from the students standing next to her.

"Thank you…" Sally mumbles, still visibly embarrassed.

"You do remember Lemonade Mouth, right?"

Sally grins at Vicki, then turns and immediately looks up at me.

"Well, yeah… everyone does."

"Well," Vicki continues, "the very first time Olivia sang in front of people – right here at Mesa High – Wen and the others had to talk her out of a bathroom stall, five minutes before they were supposed to be on stage…"

All the kids standing around break up laughing, and Charlie and I join in as well.

"Thing is…" Victoria continues, "…her band mates made her understand that she has a gift – the same gift you apparently have. You just filled this place with an amazingly beautiful sound, and you did it without any help – no microphone, no electronics… _nothing_.

Vicki pauses, and purposely waits until Sally looks right at her.

"_Just your voice."_

Patty, Melinda and Pete walk up and stop within feet of us, and stand quietly listening.

"Sally…" I carefully put a hand on her shoulder, "if you decide to pursue music, I'm here, and would be more than honored to work with you."

She raises her head and looks at me.

"But remember this. It has to be something _Sally_ wants to do. Don't let _anyone _pressure you into it."

"Thanks, Mr. Gifford. I'll think about it. But right now, I need to get home…"

As she slides off the stage, Vicki takes her hand and helps her. She heads for the exit, getting compliments from other students, the entire way. The moment the door clicks shut, I turn to face the kids on stage.

"And you didn't tell me about Sally because…?"

The three of them stand staring at me, looking seriously guilty. When Charlie starts laughing, it breaks the moment.

"You saw how embarrassed she got, Mr. Gifford," Patty says.

"Yeah," Melinda adds, "it took her most of the school year to even sing in front of us, in Pete's garage…"

We stand staring at each other for few seconds, and a realization hits me _– they're just trying to protect Sally_…

"We asked her a bunch of times to sing with the band, Mr. Gifford, but she always freaks out – so we decided to let it go," Pete finally says. "She hangs around a lot when we practice, and if she sings we let her, and don't make a big deal out of it."

"That," Patty says, pointing at the spot Sally had been sitting, "was the first time since we've known her that she actually sang _in front of people_."

Now grinning, I step over and give each of them a 'fist-bump'.

"Nicely done guys… very nicely done!"

"So…, Charlie says from behind me, "I hear you three have a blazing fast song you want to cover."

"Uh… well…" Pete mumbles.

I have to fight off a laugh, when I glance at Melinda and Patty, standing there, totally zoned.

"You guys want some help?"

They look right at me – instantly.

"No way – don't look at me guys. This is between you and him. I'm just the teacher…"

"We're having trouble with the tempo, Mr. Delgado," Patty finally forces out.

"Well, let's hear this song and see what we can do."

The kids turn toward the back of the stage, and are headed for the computer we were using earlier, when I stop them.

"The mp3 is on the Roland, Pete…"

They alter their course, stopping next to the keyboard, and once Pete pushes some buttons the song begin to play through the stage speakers. Charlie listens to the entire song once through, then he and the kids exchange some words, and Pete plays it again.

About half the kids in the Hall migrate down, take seats in the front row, and sit quietly watching, and listening.

After the third time through, and a brief discussion involving the sheet music, the three of them give it a try, with Charlie on bass. When Patty makes a couple of mistakes, and loses herself to frustration, Charlie puts the bass back in its stand, walks over, and holds out his hand to her.

"May I?"

"_OMG! _Are you kidding?" Patty replies, jumping up off her stool so quickly, she almost knocks it over.

"You _can_ do this, Patty," Charlie says, as she hands him her drumsticks. "Stand right here, and pay attention. Your problem isn't tempo – it's just a standard 4/4. Your problem is catching the shifts." He looks at Pete and Melinda, and says, "Shall we?"

Pete pushes a button, the song starts again, and Charlie jumps right into it, immediately followed by Pete, and then Melinda.

Ten seconds later, I'm the first one to realize there's a bass line – and yet, _there is no bass player_. Although their confusion is evident, the kids keep right on playing. Charlie, however, has the goofiest smirk on his face, which prompts me to look back up the aisle at Vicki. The fact I now see _two_ little girls dancing in the aisle, pretty much gives away what's going on…

"_You're a lead guitarist!"_ I yell over the music, following it with a laugh.

"_I'm versatile, Wendell…"_ we hear Stella yell back, as she appears from behind the stage curtain, a bass guitar hanging from her shoulders, grinning.

"Step it up, Melinda… one beat…" she says, stopping right next to her.

Needless to say, Melinda is totally zoned at this point.

At the first break, Charlie hands Patty the sticks he has in his pocket, and watching him closely, she starts playing along in the air, next to him.

"Pick up another beat, Mindy – we're close…" Stella says. Then she turns and looks at Pete, who honestly looks as if he is going to faint at any second.

"I know you're a guy, but try to keep up, Pete…" she says, making him blush, and the girls giggle. He does, however, immediately match their tempo.

"One more beat, Charlie – I'm feeling it!" Stella orders, just before the third chorus.

The kids match him, and at this point, they're in sync with the recording. I'm so amazed, all I can do is smile.

Then suddenly, Stella stops them, and in her usual style, simply takes over.

"Hold on! Everyone stop. Pete, start it over. Wendell, this time use the mixer to drop each of our instruments from the track, one at time."

"You got it, Stel," I reply, moving to the mixing board.

At this point, we have a crowd in excess of thirty – almost all of whom are music students – crowded up to the front of the stage. Since I started teaching, this is the very first time a 'band' is getting 'on the job training' while the students get to watch. I find myself wondering why I've never done it before.

Pete skips the intro, and the four of them jump back in when the music starts. At the break between the first chorus, and second stanza, Charlie stands up, and gives Patty back her seat.

It always amazes me what a little 'direction' can do when frustration sets in. In a matter of thirty minutes, Stella and Charlie gave three kids, the means to overcome their issue

Oh, and… Patty _nails_ it. She's so synced, that the rest of them are now playing off her rhythms.

One at a time, using the mixer, I drop each instrument from the track they are playing over, and by the last stanza, it's all the kids – and Stella. By the third pass, they're totally shredding it – without playing over the track.

Once they finish, all the kids start cheering, whistling, and applauding. Charlie, Stella, and I, are headed down the stairs, when we hear the kids behind us, discussing what they're going to do about the song's vocals, which makes Charlie and Stella laugh.

Half way to where Vicki is sitting, I catch a glimpse of Mrs. Marshall – our principle – standing in the main entrance, watching.

"I'll be back in a sec, guys – it's 'butt chewing' time…"

I leave them standing next to Vicki and the kids, and go to talk to the principle.

"I know the rules Mrs. …" I start to say, just before she cuts me off.

"What I just saw wasn't an impromptu 'jam session' – it was what teaching is all about, Mr. Gifford. You had thirty _high school_ kids, quietly and diligently watching what you and your friends were trying to _teach_ the kids on the stage. At times, your 'technique' tends to mystify me, but you always seem to get the job done…"

She pauses, and glances in the direction of the stage, where a group of kids is still talking about the song, and going over the sheet music.

"I swear, Wendell – if you even _think_ about quitting this job, I _will_ hunt you down…"

Then, with a smile, she turns and walks away. Seconds later, as I am standing there shaking my head, the others join me.

"That was weird..."

"What happened?" Stella asks, picking Melissa up.

"Nothing important, but it is possible the principle may offer you and Charlie jobs…" I say in response to Stella.

Being totally confused, everyone cracks up.

"So… back to my place?"

Everyone nods their agreement, and forty minutes later, we're all sitting around my living room, and I have the two cutest girls in the entire world, sitting on my lap.


	24. Chapter 22

_**twenty-two**_

"So, do you want to do it, Olivia?"

"We were leaving anyhow, right?" Christopher interjects.

We're sitting in a restaurant, next door to Mo's hotel. Her father opted to let us work out our issues on our own. Mo insisted I bring Christopher, because he too, is invested in the situation.

"Mo," I reply, looking across the table at her, "I haven't sung – _at all_ – for close to three years. I sorta decided that part of my life is over."

A strange look momentarily washes over Mo's face.

"Olivia, I tried that same thing, just the other day. Martha made me understand what I was really doing."

"Huh? Tried what? And who's Martha?"

"Martha is my best friend actually, and her comment on the whole 'leaving the past behind' thing was, _'You need to quit trying to lose yourself in this'_ – meaning my life with the orchestra – _'in an attempt to forget that'_ – meaning the band."

Mo pauses for second, and when she looks at Christopher, I see the wink he gives her.

"She also pointed out that I had to '_find space for both in my life, or I'm gonna end up miserable._'"

I quickly realize where she's going… and why.

"God made you a _singer_, Olivia. Whether you sing or not, _you are always going to be a singer_."

She reaches across the table and takes hold of my hand, giving me a devious smirk as she does.

"And, I dare you – here and now – to look me in the eyes and tell me _you don't miss it._"

When I don't respond, Christopher stifles a snicker, and when Mo turns to look at him, they exchange a 'high-five'.

"Through every single disaster each of us has faced over the years, you were always there, Olivia, with 'fate and destiny' – and all of us learned to accept that. Sorry girl, but this time, I fully intend to apply them to Olivia White."

This time Christopher can't stop his laugh.

"_DAMN_, I like you, Mo!"

Still grinning, Christopher turns, and looks at me.

"We can spend some time back in England, and then figure things out from there. I've never been to Southport – could be interesting. And besides," he offers, a slightly devious grin spreading across his face, "since the day I finally got you to admit who you are, I've wanted to hear you sing. This," he adds, reaching out and touching my cheek, "could be the only chance I ever get…"

It's absurdly simple to figure out what he's doing. By getting me into Mo's back yard, he'll be able to get away, without feeling he abandoned me. This is the exact moment I accept that our adventure _is going to end_.

I look at him, then at Mo, and my heart – for some insanely bizarre reason – for just a moment, takes me back to that table in Dante's…

I laugh, and say, "Okay, okay, I'll do it."

Mo and Christopher both yell out, and again high-five each other, as I sit laughing.

The next day, Mo and her dad head home.

Three days after that, Christopher and I land at the airport in Birmingham, and Mo picks us up.

By then, things between Christopher and I, are slipping so quickly, I begin to worry that I'll wake up one morning, and he'll simply be gone.


	25. Chapter 23

_**twenty-three**_

For three days, I've been exercising my voice. People seem to find it amusing when they see me walking down the street, singing – for no apparent reason – a moveable major scale.

The day after we got here, I was sitting alone, on the curb at a small intersection, near the auditorium, when I heard one of Ransom's songs, playing on some external speakers outside a book store. It only took a second, before I picked up the vocals – to the complete surprise of more than one passing local resident.

The very next day, the inevitable finally occurred. Someone recognized me.

I was sitting on the grass in front of a large church, reading and singing, when two teenage girls, walking down the sidewalk stopped, glanced at me, then turned and whispered to each other. After a moment of hesitation, they crossed the grass, and stopped right in front of me.

"Excuse me, Miss," the first girl said, "but aren't you Olivia White?"

"I am."

"Like… the _Lemonade Mouth_ Olivia White?" the second one asked.

I couldn't help it… I laughed.

"One and the same."

They instantly dropped to the grass, and within seconds, we were well into a round of 'twenty questions'. Truth is… it was actually kind of a rush, and made me think back to Mo's challenge, at that table in Torino.

That same afternoon, the orchestra members – who are easily the most sincere group of musicians I have ever met – all but pleaded with me to sing one of the band's songs, and I happily agreed. Using her laptop, Mo managed to come up with a karaoke version of 'Somebody', and as it blasted out of the music hall speakers, I did the vocals. As I walked around the stage, singing my heart out without the use of a mic, I realized that Mo is right…

_I do miss it. _

_A lot…_

Having successfully dodged my questions for three days, this morning I finally trap Mo in her office, and make her confess to what she's really up to. The moment she does, I freak.

"_Seal?_ You want me to cover _Seal?_ Are you nuts? Have you heard the guy's voice? It's past amazing…"

Right in the middle of my outburst, Martha comes in, stops just inside the door, and lets out a laugh.

"No, Olivia, we don't want a cover. We want you to do the vocals to _our_ version of his song," Mo quickly replies. "Anyone can cover lyrics. We want something more than that – which is why I asked you. We want your _passion_…"

"Come on, Olivia," Martha pretty much orders, reaching out and grabbing my arm, "we're set up and we're going to play it for you – _our way_. At least hear it before you decide…"

"Here," Mo says, laughing, then handing me some sheet music, and the lyrics to _'Kiss From A Rose'_, "try to keep up."

The next thing I know, I'm standing on the stage, and Walter – the conductor – is bringing them to order. Once they start playing, the lyrics immediately become irrelevant – I totally lose myself in their performance.

_It… is… amazing!_

Even before the last note fades, I run to the edge of the stage, and yell at Mo, who along with the rest of the orchestra, is down in the 'pit'.

"_I'll do it!"_

They all start applauding – including Walter.

"One catch guys," I quickly add, with a big grin on my face.

"And that would be?" Martha, who is now standing next to her seat in the first violin section, asks.

"No orchestra pit. We're up here – on the stage. _Together._"

"Done."

I turn to my left and find a gruff-looking, middle aged guy standing next to the curtain controls. As I turn to face him, Mo walks up next to me.

"Olivia, meet Winston. He's our stage manager. Winston, Olivia White."

"Oh… I know who she is. You want them up here, up here they will be. We'll have the riser and seats in place by tomorrow," Winston says, crossing the stage toward us.

"This is going to be amazingly awesome!" I blurt out, suddenly overcome by the excitement of it all – something I haven't felt in as long as I can remember.

"No, Miss White," Winston offers, as the entire auditorium goes quiet, and all eyes turn to look at the two of us, "as my daughter is so fond of saying, I believe _'it's going to be epic'_."


	26. Chapter 24

_**twenty-four**_

In the middle of teaching a class, I feel my phone vibrate. Because of all the stuff going on, I pull it out, and seeing the Caller ID, quickly answer it, as the kids watch.

"Mo?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"I'm in the middle of a class here, Mo. Can I call you back?"

"Is that the 'Lemonade Mouth' Mo, Mr. Gifford?" a student in the middle of the room yells out.

"Is it _really_ your old bass player?" a second one adds.

"No you can't," Mo replies, laughing as she does. "Tell them yes it's me, I'm definitely NOT old, and I'm your ONLY bass player."

I force myself not to laugh.

"_Miss Banjaree_ says 'yes it's her', that she _isn't old_, and that she's our band's _only_ bass player."

I hear a couple of snickers, and then the room falls completely silent. All I can do is stare at them, in total disbelief. My silent hesitation makes Mo impatient.

"_Wendell!"_ I hear from the phone.

"Oh, sorry… that's never happened before."

"What?"

"The whole class quiet at the same time. What's up?"

"I need your butt on a plane and here by Friday – morning. You have to be here Friday morning."

"_In England?"_

"No you dweeb, Mars. Yes, England."

"Why?"

"Don't ask questions, Wendell. Just say okay, and call the airlines now."

"Mo, what the hell is going on?" I blurt out, momentarily forgetting I'm in a room full of high school sophomores.

"I need you here. That's all you need to know. It's important enough, that it could very well affect all our lives. You should probably bring your dad too. I was going to call him next, if you didn't answer."

"_Oh my God, Mo_… you found her."

"Are you coming?"

"On the redeye – probably tomorrow night. My dad and Sydney…"

"Just you and your dad for now – please? Sydney will understand."

"Okay. You going to pick us up?"

"Yes. But there's a condition to all this."

"And that is?"

"No one other than the three of us can know you are here. I intend to bring her 'home' – to Albuquerque – as soon as what we are doing is finished. Let's do this right, Wendell – let's make sure she understands. Let's give her a million reasons to accept her destiny…"

"You're the boss. See you in thirty-six hours. And thank you, Mo – from the depths of my soul.

"See ya."

I flip the phone closed and turn to find eighteen mystified faces staring at me – none of which made a peep during the entire conversation. After a few seconds, a timid little girl in the front row breaks the silence.

"Did Miss Banjaree _really_ find Miss White?"

"That she did, Melody. That she did."

"Wow," comes from different girl, in the middle of the room, "maybe Lemonade Mouth will _finally_ get back together…"

That's all it takes to start a massive conversation in the room, which by the end of the day, spreads to pretty much the entire school.

As I'm getting ready to leave for the day, Mrs. Marshall wanders into my room.

"So, Mr. Gifford, should I be looking for a new music teacher?"

"_Huh?"_

I can tell she is desperately fighting the urge to break up laughing – even if I have no idea why.

"Well, the current massive rumor, filling our esteemed halls is, _'Lemonade Mouth is getting back together, and Mr. Gifford is going back to being a rock star…'"_

We stand there staring at each other, until finally, we break up laughing at the same time.


	27. Chapter 25

_**twenty-five**_

"Wen, I need to tell you something," my dad says, as he pours a little bottle of something over his ice.

"Tell away, Dad. As bizarre as my life has been lately, I'll just add whatever it is to the growing list."

We're on a plane, going to England, at the insistence of Mo. I abandoned Charlie and Stella back in Albuquerque – although both said they understood. Fortunately, Ms. Reznick was available, and more than happy, to sub for my classes.

"Sydney is scared to death," my dad continues, "that something she's done – that I only found out about two days ago – is going to scar your relationship with her for good."

"Yeah, right, Dad. I bet it has something to do with Olivia, doesn't it?"

"How in the world would you know that?"

"Come on Dad, they are like sisters for crying out loud. They share something the rest of us, don't."

My dad sits there, slowly sipping from his glass, staring at me.

"So?"

"She knew, Wendell. God knows how, but she knew Olivia was going to run – again. She caught her the morning she left..."

I laugh – loudly – for lack of knowing what else to do. The whole situation fits the insanity of our lives, perfectly.

"Fortunately," my dad continues, "she knew something was up, and took steps to ensure Olivia wouldn't be able to completely disappear."

"Way to go, Syd…"

"She broke down the other day, and told me what she'd done. She said she woke up that morning with a weird feeling that bothered her so much, she went and sat in Olivia's driveway. When the cab showed up at 7:30 – she knew she was right."

He pauses again, and takes another sip from his glass, acting as if he expects some kind of response from me.

"For the last two and a half years, Sydney has always known where Olivia has been…"

I laugh again, and turn to look at my dad.

"How cool is that?"

"That's it?" my dad asks, definitely stunned.

"Yeah, Dad, that's it."

"Okay, Son, I'm going to need an explanation on this one…"

"Because, ever since you gave us that lecture…"

I'm instantly interrupted by my dad laughing.

"…and made me rethink Olivia's situation, I've had this very weird vibe. Every so often, when I'm around Sydney, it gets more intense. Something – I have no idea what – keeps telling me that Olivia is fine… that I don't need to worry."

I turn, and look out into the total darkness through the open window next to me, using the pause to try and absorb everything that is happening.

"Just between you and me, I've caught Sydney looking at me in a strange way – more than once. It was as if she was waiting for me to ask, or do something… or maybe more like she was _hoping_ I would."

I take a deep breath, and turn back to face my father.

"Since that day on the TV set, when Olivia took my hand, she and I have been 'linked' – as weird as that sounds. That's why, unlike the others, I've never been overly excited about any of this. I've always known – _inside_ – that Olivia is safe. The weird thing is, I also know that wherever she is, and whoever she's with, _she's happy…_"

He just sits there, staring at me, as if totally unsure how to respond.

"And… for me, Dad, that's enough. It's like you told us years ago in the family room at the house – _she has the right to be happy, even if it doesn't include me._"

"Son, that's by far, the weirdest damn thing you have ever said to me, in the twenty-six years you've been on earth. You are an amazing person, Wendell Gifford."

"Yeah… well… I think that for the first time in my life, I also need a drink. Look…" I hold out my hand so he can see how badly it's shaking.

"Well… okay. I'll buy you a drink. _A drink_," he replies, smiling, and patting me on the back.

He asks the flight attendant for a bottle of the same thing he has, and a glass of ice. While she is getting it, I pull the phone out of the seat in front of me, and after swiping my credit card, dial.

"That's going to be expensive," my dad says, nodding at what I'm doing.

"Yeah, but your wife doesn't deserve to sit and stew for the next few days either. I need to tell her what she needs to hear – now."

It takes a full thirty seconds before I hear her voice.

"Hey, Syd – it's me."

"Wen… oh… did your dad…"

"Just hush and listen, please?"

"Okay…"

The intense stress in her voice is so pronounced, I actually feel really bad for her.

"Remember a police station, ten years ago?"

My dad laughs the moment he hears me say it.

"Yes…"

"Remember how nervous you were when I came around that corner?"

"Yes…"

"Remember what I did?"

"Yes…"

I hear her start to cry.

"Same thing here. Are we good?"

"_Oh God, Wendell_… of course we are. Thank you… for being… well… for…"

"I get it, Syd. Tell Georgia I said 'hey', and I'll talk you to guys when it isn't absurdly expensive, okay?"

"I love you Wen…"

"Back atcha… _'Mom'_…"

For some strange reason, the moment I hang up, I feel really good. I hold up my hand again, and notice that it isn't shaking any more. I pick up the small bottle and glass of ice the flight attendant put on my table, and when I set them down in front of my dad, he just laughs.

I close my eyes, and lose myself in the thought that, in about twenty-four hours, I am going to see Olivia again – for the first time in three years.

My heart could pump fluid to the top of a twenty story building at this point…


	28. Chapter 26

_**twenty-six**_

I get so caught up in the excitement of performing again, that I almost forget about poor Christopher. But, his support never falters.

A couple of times, during rehearsals, I found him in the front row, staring at me, and although I'm not certain, once, he may have actually been crying.

He patiently waited each day – and like last night, sometimes until after midnight – and walked back to Mo's with me.

"Olivia," he said, as I reached out to take his hand, "I don't get it – I've tried, I swear I have. Having heard you sing, for the life of me I can't understand why you ever quit…"

"Why did you leave Boston?"

It's a game we've been playing since we met – each trying to glean info about the other's past…

Christopher didn't respond, and we continued up the street in silence.

I know he is quickly fading from me. We haven't been physical at all since we left Italy, and he's even begun to shy away from kissing me, so I've pretty much quit trying.

But, each morning he makes breakfast, and has it waiting on me – and today is no different. When I walk into Mo's small kitchen, I again try to kiss him, and watch as he carefully avoids the attempt. Now a bit depressed, I take a seat at the table, as Christopher fills my coffee cup. I add some sugar, and slowly stir it, staring at him the entire time.

"After you perform tonight, Olivia, I'm going."

"Going where?"

"Back to my life."

"Your real life, or am I being replaced?"

My comment, while made light-heartedly, and in jest, doesn't get the response I expect. Christopher instead, becomes serious, and takes a seat across from me.

"You're a bit too nonchalant about all this, Olivia."

I put my coffee down, then reach out, and take his hand.

"Christopher, come on. You haven't touched me in over a week – including your dodge around the kiss I just tried to give you. You try to appear happy, but we both know you aren't, and on top of all that, you won't talk to me about this. I'm not being nonchalant – just realistic. I want you to be _happy_ – no matter what that means."

I pause, and carefully watch his eyes, for any hint of what he might be thinking.

"We've been open and honest with each other for a year and a half, and now isn't the time for that to change. If it is finally time for this to end, and for us to go our own ways, I want it to be on a positive note."

I wait until he finally looks me in the eyes, before I finish my thought.

"Where ever you are, Christopher, if I pop into your head, I want the memory _to make you smile_…"

Still looking quite serious, he stands up, steps around the table, leans over and kisses me. It's the most passionate kiss Christopher has ever given me, and I know it's a 'goodbye' kiss. When it's over, he gently wipes off my lips with his finger, and finally smiles.

"Back to my real life. Back to Boston. Back to face my family. And hopefully, back to finish medical school."

He pauses for a second, and again I find myself wondering what is going on behind his big, brown eyes.

"No more running."

Then, with a devious little smirk on his face, he quickly adds, "And, just for the record, _'replacing'_ you, is impossible."

He turns and walks over to the large window in the living room, and stands silently staring out it.

"Do you remember what you asked me, on the way home last night?"

"If you mean the question you didn't answer, then yes."

"I left Boston because I was angry – with my family, with the world, but mostly with myself. I didn't take a stand, Olivia, and by the time I figured it all out, she was gone…"

I can hear the pain in his voice.

"Other people were picking my path, and forcing me to stay on it. In order to ensure I 'fulfilled my destiny' – as my father likes to say – they ran her off, and because _I allowed it_, I lost her…"

I watch as he reaches up, wipes his cheeks, hesitates for a moment, and then without looking at me, continues.

"I was so angry, that my response to my father was to disappear – without a word – right in the middle of my second year of medical school."

He finally turns, and again faces me.

"Being with you, has taught me that destiny isn't chosen, it's already set. She's out there – somewhere – and _I have to go find her_. She has always been _my destiny_, Olivia, which is why my heart can't seem to let her go…"

He pauses, and after a second, forces a smile.

"How long have you been gone?"

"Almost three years," I reply.

"And having had enough of your 'silliness', as Mo put it, _your friends_ have come to help you face your destiny."

When I look at him quizzically, he laughs.

"Yeah, we talked… and while she isn't 'admitting' anything, I don't believe for second, that Mo is in this on her own…"

Although I smile at him, my mind drifts elsewhere.

"And… being the intelligent woman you are, I _seriously_ doubt you believe it either."

He makes be laugh… and blush as well.

"In my heart," he continues, "I hope that maybe Courtney and I can do the same – _face our destiny_.

He again pauses, and looks out the window.

"_If…_" he whispers, "I can find her."

I feel the tears coming. Christopher bared his soul, and in doing so, gave me reason to search my own.

"Fair enough. My turn…"

I sit for a moment, and stare at my coffee, actually worried about how he is going to react to what I'm about to tell him.

"Ever since I lost my grandmother, I've had this… well… _'feeling'_ I guess, that I'm alone – _totally alone_. There's one thing about me I've never told you…"

I take a deep breath, raise my head, and make eye contact with him.

"_I have no living relatives…"_

His face tells me that it only takes a split second for the reality of what I said to sink in. The instant look of panic and guilt that washes over his face, is exactly what I expect.

"And the look on your face is exactly why I didn't tell you – why I generally don't tell anyone…"

Realizing his face has given him away, and understanding exactly what I mean, he relaxes, and even lets out a muffled laugh.

"I quit singing because, in my heart, I am deathly afraid that if my destiny even remotely involves losing my voice too, I won't survive. I have no idea if it's true, but I find it easier to hide from the possibility that destiny can take the only thing I have left…"

I feel the tear as it trickles down my cheek.

"So… I stopped singing. It seemed reasonable to think that if I didn't use it, I couldn't lose it…"

I stand up, walk to the counter, and refill my coffee cup. Even though my back is to him, I can feel Christopher quietly watching.

"Then, one morning, I woke up so totally consumed by a need to be somewhere other than where I was, I simply couldn't fight it. So, just like you, I ran away – and ended up here."

I turn around and again face him, sipping my coffee and hoping for some kind of reaction. When none comes, I keep talking…

"Being with you, on our adventure, gives me a kind of peace of mind… as if I have nothing to lose… nothing that fate and destiny can snatch from me. From the moment this began, we agreed, we'd just…"

Without warning, he interrupts me, mid-sentence.

"…live in each moment, one day at a time, and when the time comes, will let go and move on."

His response tells me he understands, and allows my heart to finally relax.

"Uh-huh – exactly. We agreed our relationship, while very special, is also finite. In all honesty, I don't want it to end… yet… but if it's time, I'm okay with that."

I feel the tears as they once again begin to trickle down my cheeks.

"We're about a goofy pair – each trying to hide our past, and avoid our destiny… something we know can't be done."

Christopher laughs, and my heart begins to beat normally again.

"We are, and always have been, part of each other's destiny, Christopher. I have thanked God – _every single day since it happened_ – for making you turn around on that train…"

I allow myself to smile, put the cup on the counter, cross the room, and when I am within reach, hug Christopher as tightly as I can.

"Promise me you will stay for the concert… please? My heart needs to know you will be out there… listening."

He grabs my arms, gently breaks my grip on his waist, and then pushes me back a couple of steps. Using his finger under my chin, he lifts my head, until our eyes meet.

"Not even death can keep me from being in the front row tonight, lady. You are the most amazing singer I have ever heard. Don't stop, Olivia. Don't let this be a one-time thing. Go find Wendell, and the two of you need to rediscover the magic – the magic that allowed you to make music that affected millions of lives for almost a decade."

He leans over and gently kisses my cheek.

"And, you need to rediscover each other as well. I believe you do love me, Olivia White, but you are – and always have been – _**in love**_ _with Wendell."_

With just a single sentence, he releases my heart, and makes me realize that I was wrong – _that I am ready to let him go, and move on_. He smiles, and gently brushes his hand against my tear-covered cheek.

"_He owns your heart_ – just like Courtney has always owned mine…"

He pulls me close, again hugs me, and after only a couple of seconds, he too is crying. Seconds later, over Christopher's shoulder, I see Mo walk in. That moment is the closest to panic, I've ever seen her.


	29. Chapter 27

_**twenty-seven**_

"I need to go find a dress, Mo. I can't wear jeans and sneakers tonight."

The moment I quit talking, I feel a hand on my shoulder, and see Mo smile.

"I have a solution for you, Olivia, if you will trust me, and are comfortable with it," Mrs. Banjaree says, from behind me.

I turn to face her, not at all sure what she means.

"My sister and I would be honored to dress you traditionally for your performance tonight," she says, now holding one of my hands.

"I thought you had to be…"

"No, child, one need not be Hindu, or Indian, to dress in the traditional style of our country. One must only be comfortable with it. It is not for everyone."

I look at Mo, and her only response is a smile.

"Come, see what we have chosen, and then decide," Mo's mom says, indicating she wants me to follow her.

In a room at the back of their house, I find another woman, who is probably close to Mo's mom's age, standing next to the most beautiful piece of clothing I have ever seen – period. It even eclipses the outfit Mo was wearing when she walked up to me in the park.

"This is my aunt Ekaja," Mo says, "and she's a seamstress."

My heart stops, and I turn to look at her.

"_You made this?"_ I blurt out, pointing at the outfit lying behind me, which I am certain is made of _real_ silk.

"Of course," she replies, laughing, "it is what I do."

Seeing that I am hesitant to touch it, Mrs. Banjaree straightens me out.

"Olivia, it is simply clothing. Nothing more. You would not be afraid to touch a pair of jeans, would you?"

I hear Mo laugh behind me, as her aunt steps over and takes one of my hands.

"This," Ekaja says, running my fingertips over a brilliant white and pink skirt, easily long enough to touch the floor when worn, and decorated with a bunch of sequins, some interesting looking stones, a lot of beads, and an amazing amount of delicate embroidery, "is the lehnga. This," she continues, moving my hand to a _really short_ top, also a brilliant white, and decorated to match the skirt, "is the choli. And this," she finishes, letting go of my hand and picking up a long, wide, piece of sheer white silk, that matches the other pieces, "is your dupatta."

"_My dupatta?"_ I blurt out, as she lays it in my hands.

"Yes, assuming of course, you will accept our gift, it is all yours to keep."

The tears quickly come… and I don't even think about stopping them. Mo steps over, and wraps an arm around me, as I again gently run my fingers over the glistening silk of the skirt. After giving me a gentle squeeze, she steps back and smiles at me.

"Why… white?" I mumble, my fingers still resting on the skirt.

"Because," Ekaja replies, smiling and glancing Mo, "of what my sister _and_ Mohini have told me of your voice."

"Because, Olivia," Mrs. Banjaree offers, taking one of my hands, "when you open your heart and let yourself go, your voice is the _purest_ I have ever heard." She reaches out, and puts her free hand on my cheek. "Perhaps, the purity of the white and pink will help you find that which the world has missed for all these years."

"_You're a singer Olivia…_" Mo whispers, smiling at me.

"And whether I sing or not, I'm always going to be a singer…" I reply, finally understanding.

"Come on, Olivia, let see how it fits! _Off with those clothes…_" Mo blurts out, breaking the moment.

It takes close to thirty minutes for them to complete their task, and when Ekaja stands me in front of the mirror, I am _completely_ overwhelmed.

"Who knew?" I mumble, staring at a good amount of my _exposed_ self.

"Now that we know it fits, and that no alterations will be required," Ekaja says, spinning me around and carefully scrutinizing her handiwork, "we will take it to the theater, and will dress you again this evening."

"_Wait_…" I blurt out, turning to face them, and then glancing at Mo. "Can I just wear it? All day?"

"Are you certain you will be comfortable doing so?" Ekaja quickly asks.

"There is a great difference between being on stage for a performance, and walking down a busy street, Olivia," Mrs. Banjaree offers. "In public, you will draw a great deal of attention – just as Mohini does."

I hear Mo laugh behind me, and turn to look at her.

"What do you think?"

"I think it will be absurdly fun! Besides, if I can handle it, you most certainly can."

I turn back to the mirror, and again stand silently staring at myself.

"It's so amazingly beautiful…" I mumble, tears again trickling down my cheeks, "…that it needs to be _seen_. I'm going to wear it – _everywhere_."

"I am honored! You will, however, need these."

She steps over and puts a beautiful pair of sandals in my hand.

"Now, Olivia, let me finish…"

She steps up behind me, pulls the rubber band out of my hair, then proceeds to brush, and arrange it. Once she is happy with my hair, she puts the dupatta over my head, clips it in place, pulls the ends under and over my hair once, and then puts them back over my shoulders, letting them hang in front of me. Just watching her work, is amazing in itself.

Once she is satisfied, I turn to face her, and as I slip on the sandals, realize we're alone.

"Where's Mo?"

"Her mother is dressing her," Ekaja replies. "Come, they should almost be done."

She smiles, and leads me out into the living room. The moment Mr. Banjaree sees me, he almost freaks.

"_Ekaja, you have truly out done yourself!"_

"Meharbaanii hai," she replies, although I have no idea what it means.

"Olivia, come. Left foot here please," Mr. Banjaree says, tapping on one of the dining room chairs."

I walk over and do as I am told, pulling the lehnga up enough that my foot is visible.

"This…" he says, holding up a sterling silver anklet with what appear to be six small pearls attached, "is an exact copy of the one Mono has worn, since she was ten. As I did with her," he pauses, carefully puts it around my ankle, and closes the clasp, just as Mo and her mom walk in, "I give it to you – _father to daughter_."

"Just as Mohini has done, since the day I met her, I too, will try to make you proud."

I put my foot down, and as I turn to face him, Mr. Banjaree takes both my hands.

"There is something I wish to share with you, if I may. Something deeply personal, and that only those here in this room know."

"Of course," I instantly reply, suddenly overcome by a feeling of apprehensiveness.

"We share a path, Olivia. As far back as my memory can take me, I too, was alone. I am… an orphan…"

Totally shocked, I suck in a huge breath, and as I exhale, Mr. Banjaree gently squeezes my hands.

"Family, Olivia, is in here…" he says, smiling, then reaching out and placing a single finger, over my heart. "When I met Odathi," he points at Mo's mom, "they knew not of my past, or my origins, but they accepted me… _as family_. My _heart_ has never been alone, since…"

In a single instant, the ongoing feeling that has been controlling my life – the belief that I am completely alone in the world – simply evaporates. In only thirty seconds, Mr. Banjaree does what no one else in my life has been able to, since I lost Grams. With one simple statement, he finally makes me understand and accept that _'family'_, and the bonds that come with it, are _made_, not _inherited_…

I turn and make eye contact with Mo, and although it's a very weird moment, the look on her face makes it all perfect. Mr. Banjaree smiles and gently kisses me on the forehead, just before Mo breaks the tension of the moment.

"Come on Olivia, let's go to lunch and find some guys to tease, and mess with!"

Ekaja laughs, Mr. Banjaree rolls his eyes, and shakes his head, but Mrs. Banjaree, still looking quite serious, stops us.

"There is one more thing, Olivia…"

I watch her pull a small silver container from one of her pockets, and flip the top open, revealing a fine, bright pink powder inside.

"Mohini?"

"Yes ma'am" she replies, leaning over and letting her mother put a small pink circle on her forehead. I've seen her with one before, but was afraid that asking about it would be rude.

"Olivia?"

"Yes ma'am," I repeat, doing the same as Mo had, and getting the same pink dot, in the same spot.

"I thought…" I start to say, but am interrupted by Mo laughing.

"Ours," her mom says, indicating her and her sister, "are red because we are married. They are called 'sindoor'. Yours," she continues, pointing Mo and me, "are pink, because today, the two of you represent all that is feminine. They are called 'bindi' – which means 'decoration'."

I turn, take Mo's hands, and gently squeeze them.

"I feel so foolish, Mo."

She smiles at me, nods her understanding, then I turn and face the others again.

"Truth is, I've never really been alone…"

"FINALLY!" Mo blurts out, her frustration evident.

Mrs. Banjaree and her sister step over and hug me at the same time.

"Nor will you even be again, Olivia – that is what you must try to remember," Ekaja says, putting a hand on my cheek. "You have us…"

"And," Mrs. Banjaree adds, "you have three other _'families'_ – that miss your presence in their lives, more than you can know."

Without a word, and grinning from ear to ear, I turn and wrap my arms around Mo's dad, and he quickly does the same to me.

"This is good. I believe _daughters_ should hug their _father_ at least once each day."

"Thank you…" I softly whisper in his ear, "for freeing my soul."

When he lets go of me, I turn back to face Mo.

"How… how did you know?"

She never says a word, but instead, immediately steps over, wraps her arms around me, and hugs me as tightly as she ever has. When she lets go, I smile at her, then turn and again face the others, who are standing quietly, watching.

"And… thank you – _all of you. _Today has been the most amazing experience of my life so far. I can only hope that tonight, with my voice, I can make all of you…" I turn and look right at Mo's dad, "proud of me."

"Of that, Olivia," Mr. Banjaree says, following it with a laugh, "there is no doubt. I _have_ heard you sing before…"

"And…" Ekaja quickly adds, a big smile covering her face, "as Mohini so eloquently put it earlier, I am prepared to be 'blown away' this evening."

Her comment makes everyone – me included – laugh…

"Come on," Mo says, kissing her dad's cheek, and then taking my hand, "I know the perfect place for lunch… and there are always lots of guys hanging around."

In the entire twenty-six years of my life to date, I never got as much attention – including the two young boys who give us a 'WOW' as we cross a street – as I do walking a single mile to the restaurant. And, although thoughts of Christopher do pass through my mind, my heart tells me that he will totally understand.

Oh… and just so you know – having to be careful when eating, generally takes all the fun out of the process.


	30. Chapter 28

_**twenty-eight**_

Mo's dad met us at the airport, and took us to a hotel, six blocks from the concert hall. Just before we went in to register, Mr. Banjaree also gave me a note from Mo.

I'm so burnt out from flying that, once in the room, I actually sleep soundly, for close to ten hours.

Because we can't be 'seen', Dad and I hide out in our room, with the exception of a couple of trips to the restaurant next to the hotel. We're having a late lunch, when I finally make myself read the note…

_Wendell,_

_The first thing you need to know, is that yes, there's a guy.  
I'm going to leave it at that for now. I just didn't want it to  
be a shock if... well, you get the idea. I am hoping that for  
one night, you will see past all that._

_This had to be done a certain way, and I can only hope you  
will trust me. My father will get you to your seats, which are  
pretty close to the stage, center section. NO ONE can know  
the two of you are here. Yes, there is a reason, and being  
the overly intelligent guy you are, I'm willing to bet you'll  
figure it out at some point. If you don't, I promise to explain,  
once I get her back to Albuquerque._

_By now, you know that Sydney helped me find her. Although  
she hasn't said anything yet, I'm pretty sure Olivia realizes it  
too. Olivia is the most kind-hearted and understanding person  
__I have ever known, so I am certain she won't let this screw up  
her relationship with Sydney._

_Even through all the secrecy, my heart knows that you, and  
your dad, need to be here. My heart also knows that the two  
of you will understand, and will give me some space on this._

_One week, Wendell, that's all I am asking for._

_We are, and always will be, family..._

_Mohini_

_p.s. I've watched her rehearse this. I suggest you hold on to  
your heart, Wendell Gifford!_

I smile, hand the note to my father, and go back to eating.

As weird as it all has been to this point, I am for some reason, totally calm and relaxed. I just need to see her – even if only for a few minutes. Once that happens, I'll do exactly as Mo asks – go home and wait.

"You okay with this, Wen?" my dad asks.

"Uh-huh… I am. "

"And what about this 'guy' she mentioned?"

I laugh, I can't help it.

"Dad, there have been four girls in _my_ life over the last four years – heck you bought the last one dinner on her birthday. How is that any different?"

I stop and wash down the food in my mouth with a drink.

"I just need to know she's happy – no matter what that means."

Again, I baffle my dad. He shakes his head, and takes the last bite of food from his plate.

"I am curious about what song she could possibly be singing, that would be accompanied by a full orchestra…"

"Yeah," my dad says, wiping his face and tossing his napkin onto his empty plate, "I've been wondering the same thing since you first told me she was performing with an orchestra."

"Well… we'll get an answer in about…" I twist my wrist and look at my watch, "six hours. The suspense is killing me."

"Oh sure it is, Wendell… sure it is."

We both start laughing.


	31. Chapter 29

_**twenty-nine**_

It's show time. The orchestra has finished their scheduled repertoire, and once they rearranged themselves, they'll announce that they have a 'special guest' – me.

I pull off the sandals, lay them on a chair, and walk over to the orchestra riser. When Mo sees me coming she stands up, steps down, and meets me.

"Remember what you asked me… at that table in Torino?"

She laughs, reaches out, and takes my hands.

"Yes…"

"The answer is yes, I miss it more than I will ever be able to explain to anyone. _You_, Mohini Banjaree, made me see that."

"We are, and _always will be_ – no matter what paths we travel, or what complications life throws at us – _Lemonade Mouth_…"

Once again, I hug her. When we break the embrace, Mo laughs, and points at my 'back-up' singers, who are standing together near their mics.

We snatched the four of them – spur of the moment – from a local choir. They were more than willing and quite excited at the chance to perform – especially when I told them what song we were going to sing.

Although I know they'll be awesome, one of them is having a case of nerves like I had – years ago, in a bathroom stall.

"You should probably go talk to Mona…"

I turn and walk over to them, feeling more excited than I have in as long as I can remember. When I hear the older girls trying to reason with Mona, it makes me laugh, and they all turn and look at me.

"_Girls_… seriously… we are going to be _awesome_! Relax, and just go with it. You know the song, we've practiced the harmonies. This is just another rehearsal, okay?"

I take a breath, then reach out and take Mona's hand, and gently squeeze it.

"Mona, you're an amazing vocalist – that's why I asked you to help me. Let everything else go, and put yourself in church. None of this…" I wave my arm to indicate everything around us, "…matters. _He_…" I pause and point straight up, "…doesn't need to be impressed. He just wants each of us to _use_ the gifts He's given us. So tonight, the five us, are going to…"

The other girls all jump right in…

"_SING!"_ five voices say at the same time, making some of the orchestra members laugh.

The girls on either side of Mona, each put an arm around her shoulders.

"_We are going to be brilliant, Mona!" _one of them says, making the others giggle.

Then we hear the announcement.

"_Ladies and gentleman, sons and daughters,  
tonight the Churchtown Community Orchestra  
and Concert Center is proud and honored to  
present, in a one-time appearance, Miss Olivia  
White."_

The lights go out, throwing the entire auditorium into both silence and darkness, and the curtain rises. The moment the curtain begins to move, I turn on my mic, take hold of both Mona's hands, and wink at her.

When the curtain stops moving, a single spotlight illuminates the five of us from directly above, and we immediately begin the song's opening harmony.

And… as strange as it is, Mona relaxes – _completely_ – the moment we start singing. I suppose music can do that to you, especially if you're passionate about it.

Seconds later, the orchestra joins us, and once they light the entire stage, I turn to the audience and deliver _Kiss From a Rose_ with more power and passion, than any song I have ever performed.

The audience gets every ounce of Olivia White, I have to give.

The moment I sing the last line, and the lights again go out, it occurs to me that Winston – the stage manager – was right about one thing…

_It…_

_Is… _

_**Epic!**_


	32. Chapter 30

_**thirty**_

The moment the light hits her, my heart stops. Although I've seen Mo dressed in traditional Indian outfits, a number of times, the one Olivia is wearing, eclipses them all. In the twenty-six years I've been on earth, I've never seen _anything_ as beautiful as Olivia is, at this moment…

Then… I hear her voice. Although the opening harmony contains five voices – which I should point out, are amazingly perfect together – my mind quickly separates Olivia's. When she starts her solo, I close my eyes, and completely lose myself…

Halfway through the performance, I turn and look at my dad – and for maybe the second or third time in my life, am actually shocked.

He's sitting straight up, hands clasped, fingers interlocked, staring directly at the stage. If it weren't for the tears trickling down his cheeks, I might have thought the guy was dead. The only other time in my life I've see him cry openly, was the day he married Sydney – at the exact moment she said 'I do'.

When she reaches the last verse of the song, with the help of two of her backup singers, Olivia carefully goes to her knees in front of their mic stands, and again all the lights go out. Two heartbeats later, a single, narrow spot lights just her, and she sings the last four lines 'a cappella'. As she lowers her head, _all_ the light goes out, throwing the entire auditorium into almost complete darkness.

Once the final note fades completely, there is an eerie, hanging silence, for a good ten seconds, and it seems as if everyone in the building is holding their breath.

Then, the audience – which is less than 400 people – responds, and it surpasses anything I have ever seen, _in my entire life_.

When the lights come up again, everyone is immediately on their feet applauding, whistling and yelling. At the same time, a line of people with flowers, begins to form, and within only seconds, extends halfway up the main aisle, and continues to grow.

We watch as the entire orchestra, comes their feet, and begin to applaud as well. Then, the conductor lays his baton on the podium, steps down, walks directly over to Olivia, bows, and then helps her to her feet. She pulls off her wireless mic, hangs it from one of the mic stands, then turns and hugs each of the girls behind her.

Poor Olivia is lost – I've seen the same look on her face many a time. The response is far past anything she's expecting.

Out of nowhere, my father turns and hugs me – tighter than he ever has before. When I look into his eyes, I realize what has happened.

Olivia White has unknowingly just given my father, the greatest gift she could have. For the first time in his life, a piece of music has reached in – _all the way in_ – and touched my dad.

I turn back to the stage in time to see the conductor, leading Olivia – with the other four girls right behind her – up to the front edge, where the five of them, arms around each other and tears running down their cheeks, take repeated bows together. After a few moments, with the help of one of the girls, Olivia once again goes to her knees, at the edge of the stage.

One after another, people give her flowers – everything from large bouquets, to single roses – in what seems like an endless procession. Olivia, completely overwhelmed, thanks each person, and hands the flowers to the girls behind her. And, of course, she's sobbing the entire time.

Standing here, a huge smile covering my face, I realize that for some strange reason, I don't feel a need to rush down to the stage. I thought I'd have to force myself to adhere to Mo's rule of Olivia not knowing we are here, but that isn't the case. I am truly content to stand next to my dad, and watch, as the world finally recovers one of its missing vocalists...

And, I am immensely thankful that Mo made sure we got the chance to see it.

Then, by sheer chance, I notice something. Something I've seen a thousand times before, in a thousand different places.

_The press._ Not the local press… _the real press._

I quickly scan the crowd near the stage, and am completely stunned, as I am immediately able to pick out at least five faces I recognize.

"_What the hell?_ How do _they_ know about this…?"

Hearing my comment, my dad quickly turns and looks at me. Still checking for familiar faces, in a single moment of perfect clarity, my proverbial 'light bulb' goes on – and, just as Mo said, I 'figured it out'.

I turn and look in the direction of the orchestra's riser, and there, sitting alone, wiping the tears off her face and watching Olivia, is Miss Mohini Banjaree.

"Lady… you just shot right to the top of my 'Most Devious Females' list."

When I start laughing again, my dad finally speaks up.

"Wendell?"

I take a single step over next to him, so he can hear me over the crowd noise.

"Mo is far more devious than I could have ever imagined, Dad. Want to know why no one can know we're here?"

"Sure…"

"I'm guessing it's because Mohini Banjaree wants all this to spin in a very specific way when it's over…"

"Huh?"

I raise my arm and point into the crowd near the stage.

"See the brunette with all the curls?"

"Yeah…"

"Amanda Simmons – _LA Times music reporter_. Opposite side of the stage…" I point a different direction, "…the guy with the note book?"

"Uh huh…"

"James Wolf of Q Magazine. And the guy with the pony tail he's talking to? Pete McCollum of MOJO."

"Wen... how the…" my father starts to say, now understanding what I'm implying. I interrupt him mid-sentence.

"It gets even better, Dad…" I continue, once again adjusting the direction I'm pointing, "…the killer blonde over there, in the shadows, near the stage curtain, _with the cameraman_…"

"Jezzz, Wendell…"

"Teddi Watkins – _Rolling Stone Magazine_…"

Now on the verge of freaking out, my dad turns and looks me right in the eyes – which of course, makes me crack up. In the middle of laughing I again raise my arm, and point in a new direction. When Dad turns his head to follow my finger, his eyes find Mo – still sitting alone, crying.

"That, Dad, is the most devious woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. And, we need to get out of here before one of them recognizes me. Come on."

Ninety seconds later, we're walking along in silence, headed for the hotel. Neither of us says a word for the entire six block walk. In truth, there isn't anything to be said.

_Olivia's performance said it all._

We are on our way home at 10:00 am the next morning and, for the first time that I can remember, I actually fall asleep on a plane.

I spend the next five hours having the most awesome dreams about the woman that – one way or another – _I fully intend to marry_…


	33. Chapter 31

_**thirty-one**_

After it's over, Walter and Martha – closely followed by Mo – take me to an empty office backstage and make me lie down on a small couch.

Yes, it got to me… _big time_.

"You need to slow your breathing, Olivia," Martha says, sticking a small pillow under my head, "or you are going to hyperventilate."

"The doctor will be here momentarily," Walter offers, his concern visibly evident.

Mo steps past them, and sits down on the edge of the couch, next to me. With a smile, she reaches out and wipes the tears off my cheeks.

"_Well…_ there certainly isn't going to be any living with you, after _that_ performance…"

Martha giggles and Walter tries not to laugh.

"Mo… it's just a song… it isn't even my song… I don't understand…" I mumble, trying to do as Martha said, and slow down, my now erratic breathing.

In the middle of my comment, there's a knock at the door, and everyone turns to look. First, a middle age guy I assume is the doctor comes in. Seconds later, Winston appears at the still-open door. Martha is the first to notice his tears.

"Winston – what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"One sec there, Doc…" Winston says, moving past Martha without responding to her. He comes directly across the room, kneels next to the couch, and carefully takes one of my hands. After glancing at Mo, he gives my hand a gentle squeeze, takes a really deep breath, lets it out slowly, and looks me right in the eyes.

Here's the strange thing… the moment he takes my hand, my entire world slows down and refocuses… even the erratic breathing subsides.

"Miss White…"

I giggle the moment he says it, I can't help myself.

"Winston… seriously… at this point you should be using my first name – don't you think?"

My comment makes Mo and Martha giggle, and Winston blush.

"_Olivia_ – everyone here will tell you, I'm a gruff, crass, ornery old guy who generally never shows a bit of emotion. _Performers_ usually do nothing more than get on my nerves…"

I watch as another small tear escapes his eye, and his smile grows...

"But, the moment you insisted the musicians _share the stage_ with you, I knew you were different. I knew that with you, it was about the _performance_ – not the performer. You – _your performance_ – touched something in me. I have no idea what – but _something_. It was brilliant!"

He pauses, reaches up, and wipes a few tears from his cheeks.

"Tonight, Olivia, was what music _should always be about_…"

I push myself up slightly, keeping my feet on the couch, and holding tightly to Winston's hand.

"Music, should always be about _the passion_…"

He again smiles, lifts my hand, gently kisses it, then stands up, and goes toward the door, without another word. I call out to him as he reaches the door.

"Winston…"

He pauses and turns back to face me.

"Was your daughter here tonight?"

"She was – in the second row, with her best friend."

"Was she right?" I ask, a big grin covering my face.

"Most assuredly, Miss White," he quickly responds, laughing as he does. "It was indeed, _epic!"_

He turns, and goes out the door, leaving the rest of them laughing. The doctor steps over and holds out his hand to me.

"Miss White, I want you to take these…" he puts three pills in my hand, "…and lie here quietly for at least an hour. The rest of you…" he turns and looks around the room, "…need to go away and allow her to rest, and slow down."

"Doctor, I appreciate…"

That's as far as I get, before he glares at me, immediately cutting of any further resistance I might consider offering. I quickly toss the pills into my mouth, take the glass of water he offers, and wash them down.

"He does that to us too, Olivia," Mo says, as she takes the glass from me and stands up. "See you in an hour."

They're all laughing as they leave the room, the doctor turning off the lights just before he closes the door.


	34. Chapter 32

_**thirty-two**_

An hour turns in to two and a half. It's just after midnight when I hear Mo's voice…

"Olivia…"

Then… I'm being shaken.

"Olivia… time to wake up girl…"

As I slip back into consciousness, I slowly open my eyes.

"Hey… how you doing?"

Mo takes my hand, and helps me sit up.

"I was asleep… musta been a dream…"

Mo laughs, as I swing my legs over the edge of the couch.

"You couldn't be that lucky. I brought your clothes from the house."

I pull my hair out of my face, and look to see that my jeans, a shirt, and my Nikes are stacked in the chair next to me.

"Why Mo?" I ask, standing up, and letting her help me get out of the skirt and top. "I honestly don't get it… I just sang a song…"

"Do you remember the day we met? The very first time the five of us played together?"

"Of course…"

"When Ms Reznick came in and caught us, what was the first thing she said… the first thing she commented on?"

I know Mo's question, makes me blush.

"My voice…"

"Yes, _your voice_. She said, _'Olivia, you have a beautiful voice. Your band – it's a gift'_ – but, the band came _after_ your voice."

I tie my sneakers, and put my hair back into a ponytail, as Mo carefully folds up the clothes I took off.

"Even without us – without the band – you should still be sharing your voice, Olivia. You just proved you can sing anything…"

"No way, Mo. It's not going to happen. Tonight was about my friend asking me for a favor…"

"So… 'the past is behind you' and all that garbage?"

I realize what she's doing, and knowing I have no defense for it, I sit staring at her.

"Remember that table in Torino? Remember my response to leaving the past behind?"

I continue to stare, completely at a loss.

"It's what you and Chris are doing – trying to lose yourselves in your adventure, so you can forget the past – yours and his."

She pauses, her eyes locked to mine, as if in a standoff of wills – which she knows she is winning.

"Remember twelve hours ago, in my parent's living room?"

I nod in response.

"You've sorted that out. So why keep running? Look me in the eyes Olivia, and tell me you want to go back to the life you've been living, and I'll let this go… right now."

I reach up and wipe a couple of small tears off my cheeks, and continue to stare at her.

"It's time Olivia – _for both of you_ – to stop running."

Again, she pauses.

"If Chris is your future, we – Wendell included – will accept him without question, because that's what family does. I would think you'd know that."

When she pauses again, I see the tears on her cheeks.

"_We – Charlie, Stella, Wen, and me – just want our friend back, Olivia…"_

For the second time in as many days, Mohini Banjaree has seen through all my camouflage and defenses – and at this exact moment, I hate her…

Well… okay, not hate – exactly.

"That's twice, Mo," I say, forcing a smile. "You really need to quit seeing through me – it's getting seriously annoying."

"The only reason I can call you on any of that, is because I'm guilty of the exact same thing – hiding. For me, it's been living a non-descript life, with a small orchestra, in rural England. Martha made me see that…"

She walks over and sits down next to me on the couch, and puts a hand on my knee.

"We – _the five of us_ – have foolishly let the connection we shared, slip away from us. We need to find our way back to being the friends we were, for seven years."

She smiles, then reaches out, and takes my hand.

"And you… you need to sing, damn it. Even if it's without us."

"Have you ever given any thought to where we'd be, if the four of you hadn't come into that bathroom, and talked me out of that stall, Mo? I have – every single day, for the last three years. Without the four of you to bail me out, each time I've collapsed, I wouldn't be here – I honestly believe that. This – all of it – started because of the four of you. Without your faith in me, I would have been 'just a face in a yearbook'. Every stage I've ever been on has been with you guys, and because of you guys. If the four of you aren't part of it, there's really no reason for me to do it."

Although I'm looking at her, my mind is back at Mesa High… all those years ago.

"If I sing for audiences again, it will be with the four of you. Period."

The huge smile that spreads across her face makes me instantly suspicious – and of course makes me smile too.

"So…" she says, a definite gleam in her eyes, "if you _were_ to get onstage again, the four of us will have to be with you?"

"Or, like tonight," I reply, "one of you would have to goad me into it."

She sits silently staring at me, as if she is momentarily lost in a world of her own.

"And what about you, _Mohini Banjaree_…" I almost whisper, "_Are you ready to be onstage again_?"

The moment her eyes glass over, my heart races. Could, what I suspect, actually be happening?

"It's taken me three years, and an innocent comment my best friend made, to make me realize that I've been ready since the day after we 'went our own ways'. Although God gave me the gift of music, I believe He always intended I use it to make _our kind of music_… the orchestra was only a path to get me there."

"Seriously, Mo? You think we made a mistake letting it go?"

"No, Olivia, stopping wasn't the mistake. We _needed_ a break from it, and from each other. The mistake was not going back to doing what, individually we are very good at, _but together_, we are phenomenally good at…"

"Making music… _and_… being friends…"

"Exactly."

"And now… they have jobs, different lives, and even, _kids_. I think we may have missed our chance, Mo…"

The grin that spreads across her face, and the small tears now trickling from the corners of eyes, quickly confirm my suspicions, and I realize Christopher was right. They're probably _all_ – not just Mo – in this up to their eyeballs.

"Do we really have any right to mess with that?" I ask, trying desperately to keep a straight face.

"I can't believe the single greatest supporter of the 'destiny theory' I've ever met, just asked that question."

Even as a feeling of euphoria sweeps over me, it takes every ounce of willpower I can muster, not to fall into hysterically laughter. _Family_… it seems, is a very magical thing – and this proves that mine, is _amazing_.

"I need to ask something, Olivia," Mo says, changing the subject suddenly. "You don't have to answer, but I'm hoping you will."

"Okay?"

"Where did tonight come from? I've seen you pour yourself into lots of performances – _Breakthrough_ the night we lost Grams, the night at The Pit, when Ray put you on the spot, and the night we finally sang _More Than A Band_ for an audience. But tonight was past all of it. Where did it come from?"

I laugh – mostly because I know she's baiting me.

"You know good and well where it came from, Mohini Banjaree. You picked that particular song because you knew where I'd go – inside – to get it."

The moment the little smirk shows itself, I know I'm right – about all of it.

"Yes, Mo, it was Wendell. All the way to the last word, it was about Wendell."

She smiles, steps over and hugs me, obviously fighting back tears. When she lets go of me, I take a step back, and smile at her.

"Well, I've already booked our flights home…"

"_Home?"_

"Yeah… _home_," Mo quickly replies, giving me an obnoxious look. "To Albuquerque. We leave Tuesday."

"Don't _you_ live here?" I ask, for no reason other than to provoke her.

"For the time being…" she instantly shoots back, a devious little smirk now covering her face.

"I see," I reply, fighting the urge to laugh. "And we're going to Albuquerque because…"

"I promised to help Charlie with something, but had to postpone it to go find you. You know me and promises…"

"I do."

"And… I booked three seats, so you can bring Chris."

The moment she says it, I laugh again. Although her confusion is evident, I offer no explanation, but instead change the subject. I know she's going to find out soon enough…

"I'm starving, Mo – think we can find some food on the way back to your place?"

"I know the perfect place – it's open late, and we can sneak in the back…"

"So, that's what I've been resigned to – sneaking in the back?"

Mo opens the door, waits for me to step through, and follows me into the hall. She locks the door, and then heads down the hall toward the exit at the end, with me close behind. As we step through the exit, into the cool air of an English fall night, she answers my last question.

"When you find out what else I've done, 'sneaking' is going to become common place, Olivia…"

We head off down the street, arm in arm, giggling.

And yes, although Mo never mentions it, I'm sure she noticed that Christopher is missing…


	35. Chapter 33

_**thirty-three**_

Sydney is waiting for us at the airport, and the first thing I do, is hug her.

"Thanks."

"Thanks?"

"Yeah, thanks. Thanks for being smarter than the rest of us, and giving Olivia what she needed – in a controlled fashion."

I hear my dad laugh, which makes me laugh.

"You aren't angry with me?"

"Come on Syd… _she's Olivia_…"

She and Dad laugh.

"And… even if you told us where she was… what would that have changed? You managed to give her what she needed, and give us what we needed when the time came. We both know that if you'd done it any differently, we might have actually lost her. Even though it took three years, _we had to let her find herself_…"

She smiles, her eyes again cloud up, and then she hugs me.

"So?" she asks, once she lets me go.

"Based on what we saw, there's no doubt she found _something,_ Syd. It was so off-the-chart, she actually made Dad cry."

Sydney immediately turns and looks at my dad.

"There isn't an adjective to adequately describe what that young woman did. I've watched her perform a thousand times, Sydney – but this eclipsed it all. Even as it was happening, all I could think of was 'how could Sydney miss this?'"

"He's right. For three years you've been her anchor. More than any of us, _you_ should have been there, Syd."

"Well… someone made sure I was. Actually, someone made sure most of the music world was…" she says, pulling out her phone, pushing some buttons, and then handing it to me.

A video of Olivia's performance is playing on the small screen, and the moment I see the angle of the image, I know it was shot by Teddi Watkins' cameraman. After a second, I realize it's a news report…

_After more than three years out of the music spotlight,  
Olivia White – lead singer of the pop-music phenomenon,  
Lemonade Mouth – has apparently reemerged. Based on  
a rumor, a number of music reporters slipped into the  
sleepy little suburb of Churchtown – just outside Southport,  
England, only to discover that Miss White was in fact there.  
What was rumored to be an impromptu performance to  
benefit a local private school, turned out to be anything but…_

The camera cuts back to a close up of Olivia, in the middle of one of the choruses, fists clenched, singing her heart out, as the announcer continues…

_Tonight, Miss White showed the members of this small  
community – as well as the rest of the world – that  
whether accompanied by a pop band, or a full on  
orchestra, her voice stills works just as beautifully as  
it ever did._

"Mohini Banjaree… you devious, devious woman…" I mumble, fighting back a laugh. I turn, and look over my shoulder at my dad, who has a big smirk on his face.

"Remember my comment about 'spin'?"

He laughs.

"_Mo did this?"_ Sydney asks, taking her phone back, when I hold it out.

"Uh-huh… she damn sure did. And I will never again question any plan she comes up with."

"So what now?" my dad asks, as we turn and head for Sydney's truck.

"Mo said to give her a week – so, we give her a week."

"If she pulled this off, I find myself wondering if we should be worried…" my dad says, putting an arm around my shoulders.

"Dad, I think the word you are looking for here… is 'scared'. Should we be _scared…_"

All of us break up laughing…


	36. Chapter 34

_**thirty-four**_

We make it back to Mo's apartment just after 2:00 am. Now having a full stomach, I'm ready to get some sleep, knowing that the next few days are going to be insane.

As we approach the door, we see something hanging in the center of it.

"Your fans have found you, Olivia," Mo says, laughing and pulling off what turns out to be a big red heart, folded in half.

Even as she unfolds it, I know it has nothing to do with 'fans', and when her facial expression changes in an instant, I put both arms around her from behind, and hug her.

"It's okay, Mo. I knew…"

She turns and looks at me, her worry and concern evident.

"May I?" I ask, gently pulling it out of her hands.

I unfold it, pull loose the key taped inside it, and open the door. Mo follows me in, and closes the door behind her.

"You knew?"

"Yes. Like you said earlier, now is as good a time as any – _for both of us_ – to quit running. Besides, he has someone he has to find."

When I glance at her, the look of total confusion on her face almost makes me laugh.

"We knew it was going to end, Mo – from the day it started. For as long as it lasted, it was what both of us needed. Now, he needs to find the love of his life – and I need to get back to mine… I hope.

I smile and wink at her, which I think adds to her confusion. She takes off her coat, as I walk over and drop onto the couch, still holding the heart.

"Although I did make him promise to stay for the concert," I say over my shoulder, "when I looked for him while everyone was giving me flowers, his seat was empty. I'm pretty sure he had a plane to catch…"

After I think about it for a few seconds, I open the giant heart, and read what Christopher has written…

_It was the most __**amazing **__performance I have ever seen.  
Period.  
__For God's sake, Olivia, don't cheat the world.  
__**Please.  
**__Take Mo, go find Wendell and the rest of them,  
__and MAKE MUSIC ~ all of you!  
__It's your destiny girl. It's their destiny.  
__It always has been. You taught me that.  
__For the rest of time, if I hear kiss from a rose,  
my mind will __**always**__ drift back to a small  
concert hall, in England._

_You will live forever, in my heart, and in my  
memories. There is no doubt, that when you '  
pop into my head', I __will__ be smiling._

_And… if you are ever in Boston…_

_**Christopher**_

Strangely enough, I don't cry. Instead, as I hand the note to Mo, who is trying to read it over my shoulder, I close my eyes, and silently ask God to make _certain_ Christopher finds Courtney.

"I'm so confused," she says, handing it back to me.

"Welcome to _my_ world, Mo…"

Even though I said it, truth is, for the first time in close to five years, I'm not confused… or scared… or even nervous.

With the help of Mo, Mr. Banjaree, _and_ Christopher, everything has become crystal clear.

I _finally_ understand exactly where my future lies…


	37. Chapter 35

_**thirty-five**_

"You guys ready to do this?"

"Nope."

I look directly at Melinda.

"What do you mean, _'nope'?"_

"Someone got sick, so Randi had to go be in her sister's wedding – which is cool, but now we don't have a bass player," Melinda replies.

They've been practicing like crazy, and we – Charlie, Stella and I – want to see them play. _We_ know they're ready.

"Damn…"

"It's cool, Mr. Gifford," Patty says, smiling at me. "Chuck…" she points at a kid standing next to Pete's keyboard, "and his band said they'll cover for us this month, and we can play in their place next month. Randi is the only one who knows our songs…"

"I disagree…" we hear at the same time, from a _very_ British sounding, female voice.

The kids quickly spin around, and find themselves face to face with Miss Mohini Banjaree – highly skilled bass player, and one-time member of the pop group Lemonade Mouth – clad in jeans, a new pair of sneakers, a tank-top, and sporting a long braid.

Now, one would think that, based on our earlier phone call, and the note Mo sent that day in Southport, I would grasp the meaning of her presence – _on a stage at a high school, in New Mexico…_

But, in my usual haphazard, space-cadet manner, it goes right over my head…

"_NO WAY!"_ Pete blurts out.

"_SERIOUSLY DUDE!"_ comes from Melinda, just as quickly.

"_Jezzz_… what the hell is it with the three of you? Every time I turn around, one of you is sneaking into my life!" I blurt out inadvertently, making everyone within earshot crack up – including the kids.

"The fact it appears to be so easy to sneak up on you, should tell you something, Wendell," Mo replies, grinning at me.

She turns to the totally stunned kids, and says, "I hear you guys need a bass player…"

"_O… M… G..."_ Melinda mutters, really slowly.

"Are you serious? _You're_ gonna play the dance with us?" Patty asks.

Pete, standing at his keyboard, his mouth open, actually appears to be paralyzed. It takes all of my willpower, not to break into hysterical laughter.

"If you want me to, I'd be honored. Charlie and Stella say you guys kick butt. I'd like to see that for myself…"

When no one says anything, Mo steps over to Pete's keyboard and asks, "Set list?"

With a shaky hand, he holds out a single sheet of paper to her.

"I know this one… and this one… and I certainly should know this one – I've played it a thousand times."

"It's the last one, Mo… that's the one they are worried about. Pete's dad is here to hear them play it. They've only rehearsed it with Randi on bass…"

"Sheet music?"

Without a word, Pete again hands her some pages. I know she doesn't need the music – she's just playing the game with them. Watching it all makes me remember why I love teaching, as much as I love music.

As Mo reads, a figure comes out of the shadows behind her, and stops next to her.

"Uh… excuse me," comes from little Miss Sally Wright, standing in the shadows, looking near panic.

"Yes?" I reply.

She smiles at me, but turns to face the kids in the band.

"I was wondering… if you guys _are_ going to play after all, would you consider letting me sing for you? Maybe? I mean… if you still think I can do it…"

Before anyone can answer her, Mo spins around, and hands her the set list.

"Do you know all those songs?"

"Oh, yes ma'am," Sally replies, grinning, and already beginning to blush, "I know all of them. I'm always hanging around when they practice."

Without warning, Patty and Melinda jump into the air, and scream simultaneously.

"_OH HECK YEAAAAHHH!_"

It's abrupt and so loud, it makes me jump.

"_What?"_ I almost yell, turning to look at them.

Patty, drumsticks in hand, a huge grin on her face, walks over and stops right in front of me.

"Are you kidding, Mr. Gifford? With Sally doing the vocals, and Miss Banjaree playing bass, we are _soooo_ totally going to destroy this place tonight!"

She turns to Chuck, who himself looks pretty much zoned.

"I know we were gonna trade…"

"Are you freakin' nuts, Patty?" he instantly replies. "This is gonna be like so totally _epic_! I'm gonna go find a spot right up front!"

Everyone laughs as Chuck reaches out, bumps fists with Patty, and then turns and disappears off stage. I, in turn, step over and kneel down in front of Sally – who is all of five feet tall. Maybe.

"You certain you're up to this?"

Sally, with the cutest grin on her face, looks me right in the eyes.

"I honestly don't know, Mr. Gifford, but these guys…" she turns and points at the other kids, "…seem to think I can do it, so we might as well find out."

At a complete loss, I smile, and hand the kid a microphone. As I'm standing up, Patty and Melinda walk over and stop next to Sally.

"You remember what we said at the last practice?" Patty asks.

"About the crowd?" Melinda adds.

"Close my eyes and ignore them?" Sally replies, grinning.

"It always works for me, Sally!" Mo offers, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Shaking my head, I turn, and go out to introduce them.

"_Okay guys and girls – you ready for some live music?"_

The second they hear me, almost everyone present rushes toward the stage we put in the gym, once a month for dances. Once the cheering slows down, I introduce the kids.

"Tonight, for your dancing pleasure, Mesa High presents… _'Saturday Afternoon!'_"

Their band name always cracks me up – although it's fitting. They met the first time, on a Saturday afternoon, at one of my freshman music orientations.

They start playing their first song, even before the curtain opens, and when the crowd sees Mo and Sally, they go nuts. For the next thirty minutes, there isn't a single stationary body in the entire building.

Including mine.

I find myself dancing with a couple of the chaperoning mothers… which cracks the kids up.

They're getting ready to play their last song – the one they wore themselves out perfecting – when Pete's dad walks up to me.

"Thanks, Mr. Gifford – Pete and Patty told us how much effort you put into helping them learn this song."

"Not me," I reply, smiling and pointing at Charlie and Stella, "them."

"None the less, without you, my son would not have the passion he does for music. You make a bigger difference than you will ever understand."

Just as he finishes talking, his son walks up to the mic, and we turn our attention to him.

"Dad, at first this was for you and in a way, it still is. But it has become about a lot more than that. Thanks for supporting my music."

Then it's Melinda's turn.

"Miss Yamada and Mr. Delgado – wherever you are – will you guys please come up here?"

The two of them immediately look right at me, and all I can do is shrug – because I truly have no idea what's going on.

As they make their way on to the stage, my attention is on the action at the back of the stage – and the moment I realize the kids hijacked the practice drum set from the rehearsal room, and are quickly assembling it, I get a pretty good idea what they're up to. I also notice Mo, standing silently in the shadows, grinning.

Everyone watches as Pete walks over and hands Stella her Stratocaster, and another quick glance at Mo, makes me realize this is all her doing… _again_.

Finally, Patty walks over to Charlie, grabbing a mic on her way.

"Mr. Delgado, these are the sticks you let me borrow a week ago. I'm returning them, with the hope you, and Ms. Yamada, will join us for this last song – after all, it's because of you two that we managed to learn it."

The kids go nuts – there's no other way to describe it. I would never have believed that a couple hundred high school kids could possibly make this much noise! The other parents and teachers are as freaked as I am.

"_Let's rock this gym!"_ Charlie yells, taking a seat at the second drum set, and smiling at Patty, as she sits down at hers.

The lights go out, and in the near-total darkness, we hear that nifty little computer voice that begins the song – _with one little change…_

_Hello  
This is Stacie the computer  
Good morning Wendell  
I trust you slept well?  
Will you be searching for true love today?_

Even as everyone – including me – is laughing, I'm thinking up mean and devious things, to do to Mo…

Seconds later, the lights come up, and with everyone in the gym watching intently, Pete, Melinda, Patty and Sally – with a little help from the 'adults' – do exactly what they said they were going to do…

_They destroy the place. _

Patty and Charlie in perfect unison, speed drumming. Melinda and Stella facing each other and scorching out the lead riffs in perfect timing. Mo thumping away on bass. Pete hitting ever single effect exactly on time, with his synthesizer, while keeping up with the keyboard rifts.

And, of course, _all the girls_ smoothly delivering back-up to Sally's squeaky, perfectly pitched, and insanely powerful voice, as she blows everyone away with her vocals.

It's just like Olivia's performance in Southport – one of those things that you have to _see_. If you don't, there's simply no way anyone can ever explain it to you.

As the kids like to say… it is indeed, _**epic**__._

Their performance tonight night will go down in the annals of Mesa High history – right next to the night Brenigan pulled the plug on Lemonade Mouth.

When the song is over, the kids go completely nuts – again. I glance around and see Pete's dad and Patty's mom applauding louder than anyone in the building, and Sally's mom, actually in tears. The kids are standing center stage, high-fiving each other, as Charlie, Mo, and Stella jump off the stage, and walk toward me, getting high-fives from all the kids they pass.

Me… well… I'm so zoned, I'm numb.

When Charlie, Mo, and Stella stop in front of me, even in the semi-darkness, I can see the devious smirks on their faces.

I'm about to ask what they're up to when, without warning, the lights go out again, throwing the gym into total darkness, and creating a strange silence. Within seconds, we hear Sally's squeaky voice again fill the quiet void.

"We have one more song, and Mrs. Marshall was cool enough to give us permission at the last minute, to add it. Let's hear it for our principle!"

The round of applause, and whistling that follows, would easily bury a decibel meter, had one been handy. I stand motionless in the midst of two hundred kids, and actually cover my ears – and of course, break up laughing. In the middle of the applause, a student walks up, taps Mo on the shoulder, and when she leans over, the kid whispers something to her. She then nods at her, and turns back to face us.

"Seems they need a bass player again…" Mo says, following it with a laugh. She hesitates for a heartbeat, then steps over to me, goes up on her tiptoes, and whispers in my ear… _"Hold on to your heart, Wendell Gifford…"_

We watch as she disappears into the darkness, in the direction of the stage. I look at Stella and Charlie and am about to ask what's going on, when the gym is filled with a very familiar keyboard intro – and within seconds, I realize I'm going to cry, and there's nothing I can do about it.

I also notice it's still strangely silent – no cheering, or clapping – just Pete's keyboard intro.

Then, I hear her voice, as she sings those seven magical lines – the intro to the very first song we ever played live, right here in this very building – what seems like an entire lifetime ago…

After the last line, there is again a hushed silence, and a single spotlight lands on me. As the tears slowly trickle down my cheeks, I feel a hand on my back…

When I turn around, there she is, smiling… and crying as well. She hands her mic to a kid standing next to her, wraps her arms around me, and squeezes me tighter than anyone ever has – in my entire life.

Then, with a single stroke of Melinda's guitar, the kids on stage – with Mo's assistance – give the most awesome rendition of _Determinate_ I have ever heard.

Even as all the kids break out dancing, Olivia and I stand there, wrapped in each other's arms, totally oblivious to everything else.

_She is the love of my life. _

Olivia White is… and always has been… _my destiny_.


	38. Chapter 36

_**thirty-six**_

The dance long over, we – the five of us – are standing around in Wen's classroom, watching Bailey teach Melissa how to play the drums. Wendell hasn't let go of my hand, since I wrapped my arms around him in the gym.

"So, you do realize you're back in the news, right, Olivia?" Charlie asks.

I turn and glare – playfully – at Mo, who so far has been extremely quiet, and say, "Gee… wonder how _that_ happened."

Mo instantly blushes.

"Richard said he got no less than thirty phone calls about your 'impromptu performance' – in less than twenty-four hours," Wen says, laughing. "The first words out of his mouth were '_what the heck are you lunatics up to this time?'_"

"I think he's still miffed about our last show…" Stella says, making everyone laugh.

Once she stops laughing, Mo says, "Well… the girl can still sing – that's for certain."

"I saw the video – which I should mention went viral on YouTube in like forty-eight hours – and _you were amazing_, Olivia," Stella offers, reaching out, and poking me in the ribs. "Mo's right, you _can_ sing _anything_…"

"It's his fault you know…" I quickly point at Wen.

"Yeah," Stella says, trying not to laugh, "like _that_ wasn't blatantly obvious?"

They all break up laughing again, as I turn and kiss Wen on the cheek. The whole situation is bizarre in that someone watching us, would never know it's been almost four years since the five of us have been together...

"So…" I offer, in the best devious tone I can muster, "if I'm going to be singing again, I'm going to need some music…"

Everyone – with the exception of the kids – freezes where they stand. As the four of them zone out for a moment, I glance at the girls, who are trying to climb up on a chair in front of Wendell's Roland. It takes them a few seconds, but they eventually end up side by side, pushing keys on the keyboard. When Stella finally breaks the silence, I turn to look at her.

"Are you talking _performing_… or do you actually want to _record_ again?"

"Well… that's kinda up to you guys… _My _schedule is pretty clear for the next…" I reply, fighting off a laugh.

And, as is usually the case in my life – or actually _our_ lives – destiny is about to step in and screw with us.

I again glance at the kids, who are still standing on the chair, madly pushing every button they can find on the Roland, and laughing almost hysterically, which makes me start to laugh. Then, 'destiny' lets one of them find the 'right' button, and the room is suddenly filled with a _very_ familiar background track, which is pretty much blasting from Wen's keyboard. Everyone turns to look at the same time, and the girls, thinking they're in trouble, jump down and race across the room to a drum set in the corner, and try to hide. Wen, laughing himself, immediately starts toward the keyboard, apparently intending to shut it down.

I, on the other hand, can't stop laughing…

"_Oh… my… God…"_ Stella mumbles, as Wen reaches up to power the keyboard down.

"_NO Wen! Wait!"_ Mo yells at him.

In a single heartbeat, I understand. Each of them did exactly what I expected they would, when I sent them the CDs.

A very startled Wen jumps, stops laughing, and definitely a bit confused, turns and looks at us. Although he leaves the track playing, he turns to volume down considerably. Charlie, never having said a single word, pushes his way between the kids, takes the sticks from his daughter and gently kisses her on the forehead, then sits down, and to the amazement of all of us, simply starts playing – perfectly matching the background track.

Within seconds, Mo – who quickly retunes a six string she finds in a stand – is playing the bass line.

When, they reach a certain point, every head turns to look at Stella – who has an acoustic twelve string over her shoulder, and tears in her eyes. Without a word, she starts playing…

I pick up my satchel, find my now tattered notebook, and open it to the page with the 'phantom CD' stuck in it. I stand reading the lyrics on the page under the CD, and almost immediately, I too begin to cry…

**_Destiny…_**

As soon as the four of them see my notebook, and my tears, they too, understand. I sit down, Indian style, on the floor, Bailey and Melissa rush over and drop to the floor next to me, and as soon as the others loop back to the beginning of the track, I add the lyrics…

_Begin again  
__Discover friendships anew  
__We will begin again  
__Start a new journey home _

_Now the time has come  
__For five old friends to recall  
__Where they all came from  
__And why they must return home_

Once they hear my lyrics, Stella and Mo start their own backup vocals, and of course, Melissa and Bailey join in as well. We go through the song slowly, five or six times, while Wen frantically scribbles notes non-stop. By the time we stop – more than an hour later – for the first time in close to five years, _Lemonade Mouth_, has created a new song.

More importantly, with the help of one very special guy, we've once again, found our way…

"Well guys…" Stella says, grinning and putting the guitar back in its case, "as weird as it was…"

"I'm pretty sure…" Mo adds, doing the same with the guitar she was using.

"_Lemonade Mouth_ just wrote…" comes from Charlie, as he passes me, stopping to hand the drumsticks to his daughter.

"The _title song_ for their new record…" Wen finally says, powering down the Roland, and scooping up the pile of scribbled sheet music spread out over it.

"All we need now," I say, wiping the few remaining tears from my cheeks, "is permission to cover the track…"

The four of them watch as I pull the worn, gray cell phone from my satchel, flip it open, and dial a number.

"It's Olivia White. Yes sir. Sorry for calling so early, but I needed to tell you… well... that it's done. Yes sir… just now, actually – it was kind of impromptu. Uh-huh… all five of us. Well… Stella did make some small changes to the guitar portions, but other than that, it's intact. Yes sir. Well… we did cover _your music_, so ultimately, only you can say for sure, but _we_ think it's _amazing_, and it perfectly fits our lives at this very moment. Yes sir. We'll be there. And thank you – for helping us find our way…"

None of them says a word during the conversation. Bailey does come over and sit in my lap, and Melissa is now in her mother's arms. As I lay the phone down, Bailey, her arms around my neck, whispers in my ear, "_I like having an aunt,_" and follows it with a giggle.

"So?" Stella asks.

"He'll meet us in Richard's office, Thursday, next week, with the release giving us permission to cover the song. He's excited to hear what we've done with it. I'll let him tell you why…"

"_Him?_ You gonna tell us who he is?" Charlie asks.

"A musician…" I reply, giving Charlie a big smile, "who needed help from some other musicians. Turns out… we helped each other."

"Did he send us the CDs?" Stella asks.

"No… I did. He sent this…" I hold up the original phantom CD, "and I still have no idea how he found me. That's why I did what I did. I knew, deep in my heart, each of you would do exactly what you did… exactly what I did… _create_."

"_Destiny…"_ Mo mumbles, staring right at me.

"So…" Wen says, also looking directly at me, as I stand Bailey up, and then stand up myself, "as my students so aptly put it to the principle the other day, is '_Lemonade Mouth back together again_', and is '_Mr. Gifford back to being a rock star_'?"

Once again, the room is filled with laughter, including the fitful giggles of two small girls.

I walk over, and again hug Wendell. When I turn to look for the kids, I realize Mo is for some reason, the only person not laughing, and it's blatantly apparent she's desperately fighting her tears. I turn, take her hands in mine, and make her look at me.

"So… refresh my memory…" I start to say, but am instantly interrupted by Mo, as she loses her battle with the tears.

**"…_we are, and always will be – no matter what paths we travel, or what complications life throws at us – Lemonade Mouth,"_** she softly mumbles, between her building sobs.

The others fall silent, and turn to look at her, each understanding what she's done.

Mo has accomplished in three weeks, what each of us has silently _wanted_ to do, for at least the last year – if not longer. The look in her eyes at this exact moment makes me realize that, _everything_ she's done, since the day she called Wendell, has had a singular purpose – _to bring the five of us to this moment_. Her intent – whether conscious or subconscious – from the very beginning, was to reunite Lemonade Mouth.

_But more importantly_, she fully intended to get the five of us to rekindle the friendships, we should have been sharing all along.

My heart now racing, I squat down and pick up a grinning and giggling Bailey, who has spent the last few moments, gently tugging on my dress. After a few more seconds of total silence, I turn and look at Wen, who grins and looks at Stella, who shrugs and looks at Charlie, who laughs and puts an arm around Mo.

"If Richard thought we were up to something before, wait until he hears about all this…" I offer, carefully watching my friend's faces.

When no one says anything, it makes me laugh – loudly – and prompts me to do the one thing none of us ever expected we would do together again.

Still laughing, grinning like a kid, and holding a giggling Bailey in my left arm, I stick out my right arm, and curl my hand.

_Not a single one of them hesitates…_

_Not even slightly…_

"Yes, Wendell," I whisper to him, "I'd definitely say 'Mr. Gifford is back to being a _rock star_'…"

When we pull our arms back and yell… I think we probably woke up half the city…


	39. Epilogue

_**epilogue**_

_A WEEK LATER  
__ON THE FRONT STEPS OF WEN'S HOUSE_

"I want to ask something, but I don't want to be rude…"

"You can always ask me anything you want, Georgia."

She hesitates, and gives me an odd look.

"Are you okay now? Did you get your head straight?"

"Well…" I reply, laughing, "are any of us ever truly 'straight'?

Again, I get that odd, and slightly quizzical look. I put an arm around her shoulders, and squeeze.

"Yes, Georgia, I'm straight. Straighter than I have ever been in my entire life. I'm hoping your brother gets off his butt and pops the question – soon. I'm ready to be Mrs. Gifford…"

"I think you need to be the liberated woman."

"You think I should ask him?"

"No… I think you should TELL him."

I quickly try to wrap my brain around what Georgia said.

"Hummm… Get two tickets, get him, fly to Reno…"

"…and _get married_," she blurts out, finishing my thought. "You're catching on, Sis!"

I laugh, lean over, and hug her.

"Come on girl – give me the 'Wen's House' tour."

We stand up, Georgia unlocks the door, we go inside, and down the short hall, where I see at least three old photos of the band, hanging on the walls. When we reach the end of the hall, Georgia is about to turn toward the kitchen, when something in the living room, grabs my attention.

It's a framed photograph, sitting alone on a table.

Without a word, I turn, cross the room and pick it up. A now nervous Georgia is quick to follow me.

"No way…" I blurt out, as I stare at it.

"Uh…"

"Oh hush, Georgia," I reply, turning and glancing at her, then going back to the photograph. "Your brother had a girlfriend. Big deal. Do you think I was alone for three years?"

When she doesn't respond, I again turn to look at her. Talk about 'confused and concerned' – it's hard to say which is more prominent on the girl's face.

"Who is she?" I ask, looking back at the photo.

Georgia is about to answer me, when I have a change of mind, and cut her off.

"No… wait. Don't tell me. I need a pair of scissors, Georgia."

Georgia shrugs, turns to a desk behind her, and in seconds produces a pair scissors. I turn, sit down on the couch, and pull my now-tattered notebook out of my laptop bag. It takes me a few moments to find what I want, and the moment I do, I get goose bumps. I pull out the photo, and as Georgia comes around the couch, I hold it up so she can see it.

"Wanna see 'weird'?"

Georgia looks first at the photo I'm holding up, then at the one in the frame, then back at mine.

"_No freakin' way, Olivia!"_

I laugh, take the scissors, and start cutting my photo in half – at a very specific spot. As I'm doing it, we hear the front door open, and then close.

"Hey guys – you in here?" Wendell calls out.

Getting no response, moments later, Wen appears in the entryway across from us. One look at the two of us, and his smile disappears.

"Uh… hey guys… what's going on?"

Having finished cutting my photo, I'm disassembling the framed photo, as I turn to look at Wen.

"Who took this photo, Wen?"

"Huh?"

I laugh, and glance at Georgia, who at this point, has figured out what I'm doing.

"I said… who took this photo?"

"Uh… well…"

"Wendell, quit weirding out, and answer the question."

Georgia lets out a laughs, just as I finish what I'm doing, and turn the frame back over. Her response is instant…

"_Oh, come on!_ Seriously… how is that even possible?"

Wen, now as curious as he is nervous, crosses the room, stops behind us, and stands looking over my shoulder.

"A guy… A strange, pushy, old guy…" Wen mumbles.

"Okay… does this sound familiar? Long gray ponytail? Spoke with a bizarre accent? _Insisted_ he needed to take the photo? _Insisted_ you guys stand in a very specific spot?"

Georgia, now holding the framed photo, sits silently – still looking totally confused, and poor Wendell, actually looks like he's going to faint.

"How in God's name would you know that, Olivia?"

I smile, again open my notebook, pull out one of three slightly different versions of the photo I just cut up, and hand it to him.

"_Because…_ the nut did the exact same thing to us. It took the obnoxious old fart, three tries and twenty minutes of moving us around, before he was satisfied. Then, without a word, he just disappeared."

There's a bizarre, hushed silence, for a few seconds, and then I take the framed photo from Georgia, and hand it to Wendell as well.

Wen finds himself staring at photograph of Christopher with his arm around Courtney, standing under the Eiffel Tower. I inserted the half of _my_ photo that contained Christopher, over the half of the photo in the frame that had Wen in it. The strangely bizarre thing is that one fits over the other, so perfectly, that the image in the frame now appears to be an unaltered photograph.

After staring at the two images – the photo I handed him, and the altered photos in the frame – for a few seconds, the shocked look on Wen's face becomes even more pronounced. His sister notices it immediately…

"Wen? What's wrong?" Georgia asks.

Wen looks at her, and then hands the frame back to me.

"Look at the date, Olivia…"

I reach out, take the frame, and glance at the lower right hand corner, where the date and time are digitally imprinted by the camera, and immediately understand. I pick up the cut-off half of my photo, which is still lying in my lap, look at it, and start laughing.

"What's going on?" Georgia asks, leaning towards me.

I hand both the frame, and the half-photo, to her. She takes them, and her eyes move immediately to the date stamps, the girl almost loses it.

"_Oh… my… God…"_ she whispers.

The imprinted date and time on both photographs is in a twenty-four hour format. Wen's photo shows it was taken on 7/7 at 17:00 – which is 5:00pm. The stamp on my photo is 7/7 at 17:17.

If one is to believe the timestamps, not only were the four of us _in Paris at the same time_, but we were standing in the _exact same spot_… separated by seventeen minutes.

I look up at Wendell, who smiles at me, because he too, now understands.

"Her name is Courtney…"

"And his name is Christopher…" Wendell instantly replies.

"Okay you guys…" Georgia says, her voice cracking, "this is like twilight zone stuff. First of all, how in the heck would you guys know their names, and for that matter, how is _any of this_ even possible?"

Without responding to Georgia, I stand up, walk around the couch, wrap my arms around Wen, and hug him tighter than I ever have. After a second, I step back, and with tears in my eyes, again look up at him.

"It was never about us, Wendell…"

He smiles, reaches out, and wipes the tears off my cheeks.

"_It was always about the two of them…"_

He pauses, and gently kisses me.

"_All of it…"_ he almost whispers.

"So…" I ask, a big grin on my face, "Where are you on the whole 'destiny' thing now, Wendell?"

He smiles and again hugs me. When he lets me go, I step back, and turn to find a very confused Georgia.

"I'll try to explain it all later – I promise," I say, giving her a big grin.

"Do you think they found each other?" Wen asks, still holding tightly to one of my hands.

"Without a doubt, Wen… _without a doubt_. The photos are HIS way of telling us they did…"


End file.
